


The Town

by JamesJohnEye



Series: Things unattempted yet (in prose or rhyme) [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesJohnEye/pseuds/JamesJohnEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With half of his family suffering from a virus, Daryl has no choice but to lead his family to a new safe haven. High walls might keep them safe from walkers, but there are other, worse things lurking beneath the pretence of civilization and he soon learns that he might not be able to protect the ones he loves, no matter how hard he tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome

 

* * *

 

 

‘Surround yourself with human beings, my dear James. They are easier to fight for than principles.’

-Ian Fleming

 

* * *

 

 

The house is unlike any Daryl has ever been in, much less stayed at. He is used to cramped places with dodgy lighting, to dangerous electrics and leaking pipes, but also to the comfort that can only be found in tiny rooms illuminated by bleak candle light, where shadows dance on the walls and people have to brush past each other in order to switch places. The familiarity little money and blood entices.

He is used to stains on carpets; burn marks, spilled coffee, beer, blood, and the curtains always being closed, yellowed by the smoke of cigarettes and joints, and time. Wallpaper peeling off, faded and bearing the signature of fights and boyish destruction, marks of his height in a sloppy scrawl, the name of his favorite bands in angry black marker scarring the wall behind his bed.

Sometimes he even misses that couch, with its one broken leg because he had jumped onto it as a teenager, or that trailer with no heating other than the shared body heat of shoulders being pressed together on the tiny bed while battling for control over the remote. A television blaring in the corner where it sometimes drowned out the laughter between brothers and at other times the hatred that comes from loss and moonshine. The old radio his mother had listened to while cooking, hips swinging and hand tugging her youngest son off the counter and to his feet, spinning him around and around and around until they both landed in a heap of giggles.

He’s learned to get used to homes build out of blood, dust and the end of the world too. Foreign homes with pictures of strangers on the walls, closets filled with items that aren’t anyone’s anymore, cages filled with skeletons of animals which used to have a name. He’s found that dead-men’s beds serve him just as well.

He isn’t used to _this_ , though.

Sunlight streams into the room through large windows, casting an orange glow over the polished floorboards. There’s a couch with pillows and blankets, a coffee table made of light wood and littered with old magazines, books, there’s even a small plant which has yellow flowers blooming. There’s art on the walls. Paintings of people and far flung places, rolling fields and mountains, one depicts an ocean with dark clouds packed over it, the sun peeking through it to illuminate a ship in rough waters.

Two comfortable chairs face the couch. There’s a camera set up in a corner.

Daryl walks around the room. He leaves muddy footprints on the white rug as he leans over the coffee table. He rips one of the yellow flowers off its stem. Crushes it between his fingers. It stains his skin, yellow mixing with the left over traces of dirt and blood.

One wall is completely covered with a bookcase. The books are thrown in, haphazardly stacked and shoved onto the shelves. Whoever did it didn’t bother to sort them on name or author, not on color, not on subject. Whoever did it didn’t care. Daryl looks at it while holding on to the strap of his bow. It’s just pretend. Fake.

A doll house.

A door opens and closes somewhere. Heavy footfalls announce the arrival of a guy. He’s tall, just as tall as Merle had been and with the same built. Muscles gained through hard labor rather than a gym membership, large hands and sharp features. He has black hair, a military cut, and stubble on his cheeks and chin. The clothes he wears are clean, not a speck of dirt on them.

‘Good afternoon,’ the guy nods to Daryl as he puts a shotgun next to the camera in the corner. His tone is light and friendly. He walks over, holds out a hand. ‘I’m Davis. You met my wife, Raeanne, outside the gates.’

Daryl looks down at the hand. Turns his back on it with a grunt and glare.

‘All right,’ Davis says, dropping the hand. He doesn’t seem to take offense. ‘She told me your name was Daryl, is that right?’

The hunter looks out of the window. The streets are empty now. It’s dinner time.

‘Your family has been taken to the church. It’s one of the biggest buildings we have, loads of empty pews now, man. They’ll be safe there. The girls are cooking them up something hot. Skin and bones, y’all are. Mind if I film?’

Daryl looks over his shoulder. Davis is standing near the camera, hand on a small button on the side. He narrows his eyes.

‘We film every interview. People watch it, get to decide who stays. All democratic and shit.’ Davis gives him an easy smile.

‘All right,’ Daryl nods because he knows he can’t stay quiet forever.

‘Thanks man.’ He pushes a button and a small red light comes on. Then he walks over to the couch, falling onto it with a sigh, arms over the back of it. He waves at one of the chairs. ‘Why don’t you have a seat so we can talk?’

‘Nah, I’m good.’ He turns around, knuckles white on the strap of his bow. ‘We can talk though.’

‘Good.’ Davis sits up, elbows on his knees. ‘Tell me about your people.’

Daryl tilts his chin higher, ‘what do ya wanna know?’

‘How long have you been out there?’

‘The beginning.’ Something flickers over Davis’ face. Disbelief, maybe. Curiosity too. Daryl eyes him warily. ‘Some of us met up in Atlanta when it all went down. Picked up others along the way. We had places,’ he nods. ‘A farm. Then a prison and a library.’

‘What happened to those places?’

‘What always happens; got overrun.’

‘By roamers?’

Daryl shrugs, ‘some of them, the farm, yeah, parts of the prison too. Doesn’t matter anymore; bad men, dead men, ‘s all the same now.’

‘How so?’

‘All want you dead,’ Daryl murmurs as he walks over to the bookcase to scan the titles. He imagines Benjamin standing beside him, grinning and running his lean fingers over the spines, a loving gesture to a dying art. ‘Either want your flesh or your gun, but there ain’t no difference no more, same result. Same ending.’

‘But you’ve held out.’

Daryl presses his lips together and nods. ‘Yeah.’ He turns away from the books and back to his host. ‘Lost a lot of people. To walkers. To others. Hell, even mother nature took a bite out of us, some kind of flu back at the prison, now this thing.’ He unclips his crossbow, letting it down slowly until it comes to rest on the floor. It probably scratches the wood but Davis doesn’t seem to care. Daryl lowers himself into one of the arm chairs. He kicks his feet up, planting them on the coffee table. ‘The road’s been long,’ he says as he plucks at his fingernails. He glances up at Davis. ‘Hard.’

‘I get that.’

‘Don’t think ya do,’ Daryl murmurs as he bites on his thumbnail. ‘Ya’re behind big walls. Got muscle to guard them. Have you been out there? At all?’

Davis nods. ‘For a little while. We found this place pretty quickly, made it ours.’

‘Like what? By winter?’

‘Just after the big cities fell. We were on a road trip, Raeanne and I. Atlanta fell and we just happened upon this place.’

‘Didn’t see shit then,’ Daryl says as his teeth tug at his nail. ‘’s not like it was on the news, man. It’s way worse than that.’ He shifts a little in his seat, ‘first it was just walkers, you know? Dead people, walkin’. That was bad, but… Became people versus people too. Out there? ‘s no power, no hot water, fuck, there’s barely enough food going ‘round. If you find something, a place, supplies? You keep it. Make it yours. Protect it from anyone who wants to make it theirs.’ He removes his hand from his mouth, lets it dangle of the armrest of his chair. ‘Killed people.’

‘ _You_ killed people?’ Davis asks.

‘Hmm-hmm. A lot of them, too.’

The man watches him. His eyes are brown. ‘Gonna tell me why?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘They wanted to make whatever was ours theirs. Places. Guns. Food. People.’

‘ _People_?’

‘We’d taken in a boy. His last group wanted him back. Didn’t happen.’

‘You were protecting your friends and-’

‘Family,’ Daryl cuts in sharply. ‘They’re my kin.’

Davis smirks a little at that, ‘the Asian dude?’

The hunter removes his boots from the table, planting them on the floor with a heavy thud. He hands moves to his belt, where the knife rests. ‘Yeah. Got a problem with that?’

‘Easy,’ Davis tells him with a nod to his hand. ‘Ain’t no problem. Just didn’t figure you the type to consider a chink _kin_.’

‘His name is Glenn,’ Daryl tells him with a cold look. ‘We met in Atlanta. Survived a lot of shit together. Saved my ass a bunch of times, got him out of some tough spots too. Think we can still hold on to those ideas? Chinks? Niggers? Ya probably hate democrats too. My brother thought he could hold on to that. Thought himself above them all. Now he’s six feet under.’

Davis nods, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Daryl. I’m sure they’re good people.’

‘They are. They need a roof though.’

‘Why?’

Daryl lets his head rest against the cushions of his chair. ‘The road messes you up. Changes you, the way you think. There’s a point, it just tips over after that, you get lost inside ya head, you know? Think there’s no way out, that there’s no more good people left, everything’s just too far gone to ever come back. We’ve seen people lose their way. Wasn’t pretty.’

‘Are those people still with you?’

‘No.’

‘Have _you_ ever lost your way, Daryl?’

The hunter looks at the ceiling, then tilts his head so he can look at the books in the bookcases. ‘I was lost way before all this went down. Not anymore though. People are lookin’ at me. Thinkin’ I know what to do, how to make this better. I don’t. Don’t know shit. Don’t even know what you want to hear. That we’ll play nice? That we’ll contribute to your community, follow your rules, all of that? Sure, if that’s what it takes.’ He sighs. ‘Rick used to make those calls. What to do, where to go.’

‘Is he the guy that’s unconscious?’

Daryl nods. ‘He’s got a kid and a baby. Asked me to look after them.’

‘And you have,’ Davis says with a small smile. ‘You brought them here. To safety.’ He stands up and shuts the camera off. ‘I’ll make sure they prepare two homes for your group.’

‘Thought you had to be all democratic and shit. You just decide to let us stay?’

‘We have a curfew. Nobody goes beyond the walls after dark, that includes visitors.’ Davis leans against one of the bookcases, his arms crossed. ‘I’ll still interview the rest, but I think we understand each other, Daryl. You said you killed people because they wanted to take what’s yours. Well, I’m offering you to make this place yours too. We have food and walls. It seems to me that you have experience and manpower. Sharing is caring.’

Daryl bites on his thumb, tugs at the skin until he can taste blood on his tongue. ‘ Yeah?’ he asks. ‘How’s that Sesame Street bullshit been workin’ for ya?’

Davis laughs, ‘pretty good, actually.’

Daryl shrugs, spits on the floor. His saliva is tainted by blood. ‘All right.’

‘We’ll split the group into two, Raeanne will interview the girls, she says it might make them more comfortable, or something,’ Davis rolls his eyes with a huff of laughter. ‘Girl stuff, you see, but it speeds up the process so I’m not complaining. She’ll take the boy too.’

‘He’s just a kid,’ Daryl says dismissively. ‘Gonna interview the baby too?’

‘If she can talk, sure. You know what they say. The only honest people in this whole world are drunks and kids.’

Their eyes meet. Daryl sets his jaw. Davis smiles.

‘All right,’ the hunter scoffs.

‘See?’ Davis asks. ‘I think we’re going to get along just fine.’

 

 

Raeanne meets him outside after the interview. She doesn’t say much while she walks him to the church where the rest of his group is still holed up. Every once a while she points out a house, tells him that that’s where she and Davis live, or a nice old couple who’d survived by luck and chance, another belongs to Davis’s baby brother who’d been showing them the sights of his town when all hell had broken loose. She doesn’t expect a response and gets none, except for the occasional grunt of understanding.

The church is small, made of light bricks and free of any gore or grime. It feels unnerving to walk through another town without a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans or the presence of his family to back him up in case things go south on him. The normalcy of everything boggles his mind. The well maintained gardens, the un-sacked houses, the people who greet Raeanne by name and give him a wave in acknowledgement. Some houses even have the flag out, waving proudly in wind.

Just another ordinary American town. Right in the middle of the damn apocalypse.

Raeanne has dropped off her weapons too. The holsters on her belt and thigh are empty, but she still carries her knife. He doesn’t doubt that she knows how to use it.

She’s observing him out of the corner of her eye. He wonders what she sees.

‘Here we are,’ she pushes the door of the church open and leads him in. There are lights on inside. It’s warm too. The rafters expose the structure of the building, light beams of wood crisscrossing above their heads. A soft murmur of conversation greets him.

There’s a table set up near the alter. There’s food on it, steaming rising from various pots and pans and a few women fuss over it, stirring the contents while chatting about something. Their voices are light and cheerful.

His family is sitting on the other side of the room. Huddled together. Carl is sitting on the floor with Judith safe in his lap. His head is bowed, shielding the little girl from view. The rest of the group is stationed around him. Glenn, tall and shoulders pushed back, eyes on the strangers and with Maggie at his side. Abraham covers the other side, the entrance. He looks relieved when Daryl slips inside.

Carol comes over immediately, a worried look on her face. ‘They’ve taken Michonne, Sasha, Eugene and Rosita too!’

Daryl glances at Raeanne, who seems undisturbed.

‘They’ve been taken to the medical bay,’ she says calmly. ‘You said it was a virus. We don’t want it to spread and we need to treat them. I’ll take you to them after dinner.’

‘You keep postponing that,’ Carol accuses. ‘You said we’d see them after you’d given us the lay of the land!’

Raeanne nods. ‘I’m sorry. You looked like you were about to keel over. Did you have some dinner yet?’

Carol looks at Daryl. ‘No.’

The hunter nods because he knows what she’s thinking. What they’re all thinking. _Terminus_. Woodbury. It had all seemed too good to be true, too. He looks over to the table with food. His stomach tightens in yearning. With a grunt he walks over.

‘Hello!’ A woman greets him cheerfully. She gives him a big smile which is probably meant to be encouraging. ‘You must be Daryl! They’ve been waiting for you, poor things. Can I fix you a plate?’

He nods.

She beams again and starts to pile potatoes onto a plate. Another woman adds some gravy and meat. It smells delicious. They add some green beans with a flourish and hold out the plate to him. ‘Here you go, dear.’

‘You first.’

The woman blinks, ‘excuse me?’

Daryl shifts his weight and nods at the plate. ‘You first.’

‘I… But, I made it for you, it’s just…’ The woman stammers.

A warm hand comes to rest upon Daryl’s shoulders for a second, making him flinch and step aside quickly. Raeanne takes the plate in his stead and grabs a fork. ‘He wants to know that you’re not poisoning his family.’ She smiles a little and takes a bite of the potatoes, then the meat. She chews thoughtfully while looking back at the small group of strangers. ‘’s good, Katie.’ Then she shovels some beans into her mouth and swallows. ‘Hate those beans, though.’

Katie laughs, ‘you can’t be picky now, Rae!’

‘I know,’ the woman grins back before holding the plate out to Daryl. ‘There. Satisfied?’

‘Guess,’ Daryl murmurs as he takes it. The meat is rabbit. He’d recognize that anywhere. ‘One more for the boy and baby?’

Katie nods enthusiastically. ‘Of course! Send the others over. There’s enough to go around and they should really eat it while it’s still hot.’ She dishes another plate and hands it over. ‘The kids, what are their names?’

Daryl takes the plate and walks away without answering. He kneels down besides Carl. ‘Here. Eat up.’

The boy digs in without a question, stuffing his mouth before mashing the potatoes, dipping them in gravy, and feeding it to his sister. The little girl eats small bites while she babbles softly.

Glenn and Benjamin sink to their haunches too, heads bend close together so they can’t be overheard. The Korean speaks first, ‘how did it go?’

‘They’re goin’ to give us two houses.’ Daryl gives his plate to his brother. ‘Davis, guy who runs this place, he’s going to interview the guys. Raeanne the girls and Carl.’

Carl looks up from his food, gravy dripping down his chin, ‘what should I say?’

Daryl shrugs, ‘the truth, I guess. It’ll be all right. ‘s just bureaucratic bullshit, for show. It’s Davis who calls the shots around here. Give them what they want to hear.’

Benjamin gives a soft sigh, ‘did they ask anything about us?’

‘Nah, just how long we’ve been out there, what we did….’ Daryl bites on his thumb. ‘It’ll be all right.’

The blond nods and looks at the boy, ‘remember what we talked about?’

Carl nods. He glances at Daryl, then back at Benjamin. ‘Yeah. I remember. There’s nothing to say. I know.’

‘Good,’ Benjamin sits back on his haunches and watches how Carol and Maggie slowly make their way over to the table with food. Their movements seem hesitant, but Carol gives a quiet greeting, filled with nervous laughter and clumsy hand gestures. The women perk up, laughing with her.

Daryl knows the act. He watches how Carol disappears into their surroundings, into something unassuming and non-lethal. How her shoulders slump, her hands pretend not to want to rest on her knife, her eyes too bright and naïve. He _hates_ it.

 ‘What about my dad? And the others?’

‘I’ll go see them now,’ Daryl promises as he stands up again. He looks down at Benjamin, who’s eyes are very green. The blond hair is turning silver now that the color is starting to grow out. He meets the gaze steadily. ‘Go get some food,’ he tells his friend, even though that’s not what he wants to say.

‘I will.’ Benjamin gives him a small smile that is so insincere it almost makes Daryl wince. ‘Some for my _girlfriend_ too,’ he casts a look over his shoulder at Tara, who pokes her tongue out at him and rolls her eyes. ‘She gets downright nasty when she’s hungry.’

Daryl grunts and turns away. He pats Abraham on the shoulder as he makes his way over to Raeanne. ‘They’re eatin’. Take me to the others.’

She narrows her eyes at him, ‘did _you_ eat something?’

‘Ya got me a plate.’

‘And you passed it to your friend,’ Raeanne points out. ‘Come on, five seconds longer won’t make a difference. Eat something, Daryl.’

He glares at her but grabs a plate that Maggie holds out to him. He shovels the food in, barely tasting anything. Behind Raeanne, Carol giggles and shakes her head at his antics. He give her a glare too. When the plate is clean, he throws it back onto the table with a clang. ‘There. Happy?’ He snipes.

‘Very,’ Raeanne answers, amusement coloring her voice. ‘Okay then. Just you?’

‘Just me.’

‘Okay then,’ she says again. ‘Follow me.’


	2. Call it gear

 

* * *

 

 

The medical bay is nothing more than a glorified kindergarten building turned into a small medical facility. The walls are all painted in bright colors and there’s vinyl on the floors. Daryl’s boots squeak as he walks over it. Small tables and chairs have been stacked into one room, which is now clearly used as storage, but there are still paintings on the walls, some made by clumsy hands while others are neatly drawn houses, representations of the ones out in the town.

Raeanne nods at them as they pass. ‘The children make them for those who get sick. Cheers up the place.’

Daryl grunts, ‘got a lot of them? Kids, I mean.’

‘A couple. Three young ones. Two boys and a girl, about five years old. About four teenagers, same age I think as your boy. They pretend to scoff at the idea of making the pictures but we still find some in the mailbox every once in a while. They think we don’t know that the kids are too young to color that neatly. Teenagers, huh?’

Daryl nods.

‘I think you’re doing really good, by the way,’ Raeanne tells him. ‘I know this must be the weirdest thing ever for you; a community, houses, having people make food for you. Hell, people, period. And I get that you’re not the type to really… You’re doing good.’

‘Ain’t much weirder than dead people walkin’ around.’

That earns him a soft laugh. ‘Yeah, the first time I ran into one of those things? I had part of wooden fence in my hands and no clue what to do. Kept stabbing it in his heart, or where ever I thought his heart was, but it just kept on coming at me. Unreal.’

‘Damn things didn’t come with no instructions,’ Daryl agrees. ‘We got lucky, figured it out quick, my brother and I. He stabbed them in the heart too, didn’t do nothing. I pinned them to a tree, bolt clean through their skulls. That worked. Figured it had to be the brain after that.’

‘I got nearly eaten three more times before I realized it. Hard learner, I guess. We didn’t have any guns or weapons so I just kept hacking away.’

He snorts. ‘Don’t seem like the hackin’ type.’

She grins at him, ‘and you’re more talkative than you pretend to be. In here.’ She opens a door for him.

The room has been turned in a medical area. There are four tables set up against the walls. They look like they’d once belonged in an operating theatre, a long time ago.

Michonne is sitting on the one on the very left. Her hands are curled around the edge, legs swinging gently. The dark eyes glance over to the door, catching sight of the hunter, and her shoulders slump a little at his friendly nod.

Rosita is on the bed right next to her. Out cold, but her chest moves steadily up and down. Eugene is sitting next to her, on her table, and holds her hand.

Rick is in the corner.

'You all right?' Daryl asks Michonne as he walks over.

'Yeah.' She nods but her gaze travels back to the former cop. 'They gave us food, water. Broad spectrum antibiotics. They're not sure what it is, but... Told us this would help.'

Daryl grunts as he hoists himself up to the table, sitting beside her.

Raeanne lingers in the door opening for a second. 'I'll just be outside, okay?' At Daryl's curt nod, she closes the door behind her. They can see her walking down the hall through the windows. She waits by the door leading outside.

'What's going on out there?' Michonne asks. 'How's everyone?'

'Spoke to the guy in charge. He wants to interview us all, but I think we're in the clear. They're going to give us two houses.'

'Just like that, hmm?' Michonne looks at him.

He meets her eye. 'Just like that.'

They're silent for a long time. Just sit there, legs swinging as they watch over their sick friends. Eugene rubs a thumb over the back of Rosita's hand. Michonne lets her boot hit Daryl's every once a while. He leans back on his arms, turning his knee out so it touches hers.

'I don't know whether they're stupid or good or bad people,' Michonne says after a while. 'But you don't patch up people just to kill them.'

Daryl hums his agreement. 'Maybe they're old people, then. From before. This guy, Davis, hmm. He said they just happened on this place, right after everything went down. Made it theirs. I don't know when they built the walls, where they got the guns, where they found so many people, but... You're right. Don't fix people up to feed them to a bunch of walkers.'

'I got a good feeling about this,' Michonne says.

That makes Daryl huff in faint amusement. 'You sound like Benjamin.'

'He said that?'

Daryl lets his head lull back for a second, eyes closing against the electrical lighting above them. ‘Said a whole bunch of things, quoted me some dead poet, but yeah. 's not so surprising, right? Fuck, it all seems community, sharing, social in here. Like a fish in water, he is. 's probably busy charmin’ those dinner ladies back at the church.' He laughs a little, 'they won't know what hit them.'

Michonne shakes her head with a fond expression on her face. ‘We need this,’ she says after a couple of seconds. The smile fades. ‘A roof. A place to call our own. We were never going to make it to that army base. We were just biding our time, trying to find something. And we found this, Daryl. We found this place. It’s got to mean something. It has to.’

 

 

The two houses are right next to each other. They’re big too. Painted white and well maintained, just another American suburb. He must have seen thousands of them, just like these, from behind car windows. He can almost hear Merle slurring something crude next to him, about those paper pushers, those Sunday morning families, those damn democrats and their damn perfect neighborhoods.

He spits on the curb for good measure, in agreement with his dead brother’s memory.

The sight of Glenn coming out of one of the houses jars him out of his memories, however. The man looks haggard, wary as he jogs off the porch and meets Daryl at the beginning of the perfect lawn. Keen eyes dart around, focusing on the other houses on the street. Some are dark. Others have light spilling from the living rooms. Shadows move behind curtains.

‘They’ve given us two,’ Glenn murmurs when he reaches the hunter. He nods at the other house. ‘They’re splitting us up!’

‘Not tonight,’ Daryl says. ‘Nobody said nothing about having to use the other one.’

‘That’s what I thought,’ his friend nods back. ‘I’ve gathered everyone in this one. There’s running water. Electricity.’ He huffs out a breath of amazed laughter, like he can’t quite believe it. ‘Tara and Abe are doing their interviews now. The rest is getting cleaned up.’

‘All right.’ Daryl hitches his bow higher onto his shoulder and walks up to the house, up the porch and through the door. The living room is bathing in artificial light. He blinks, eyes no longer used to the harsh conditions of civilization, nor the comforts of a home. The house is big and the living room just as large as David’s had been. He figures that all the houses are copies of each other, exactly the same.

The walls are bare though. And the bookcases empty.

His family is sitting in the living room, spread out over the tables, couches, chairs and window sills. Knives are resting on knees. Noah peeks out of a side window, on guard duty.

Carl jumps up when Daryl enters. His hair is wet and clean. He probably just got out of a shower. ‘How’s my dad?’

‘Unconscious,’ Daryl grunts as he puts his bow in the corner of the room, out of the way. He rolls his shoulders for a moment. ‘They’ve given him some meds, have to wait and see what they’ll do. Michonne’s right there with him, okay, kid? She seemed to be doin’ all right.’ He claps the boy on the shoulder before moving on to Carol.

She looks much cleaner too. Judith is asleep on her shoulder.

‘Everyone all right?’ Daryl asks softly, touching her waist for a second to get her attention.

‘Yeah,’ she nods. ‘They’re going to bring a crib over for Judith in a little while. I think Benjamin talked to the ladies who made us dinner.’ She shakes her head, a smile creeping onto her face. ‘You should have seen him, he can really turn up the charm when he wants to.’

‘He’s not the only one connin’ them.’

‘Hmm.’ Carol kisses Judith’s head. ‘It’s easier to blend in when they think you’re just a sad housewife. Makes you invisible.’

Daryl sets his jaw.

‘We all have jobs to do,’ Carol tells him. ‘That’s what Hershel used to say. Being invisible is mine now. Yours is being visible. We don’t have to like it. We just have to do it.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Maggie and Glenn will be interviewed next. Ben is after that, with Carl.’

‘All right, what-‘

The sound of heavy army boots on the staircase stops him from finishing his question. Benjamin slowly lobes down the stairs. The boots have been polished, shiny black leather which wraps around his ankles, laces pulled tight and wrapped around the top before ending in a knot. He’s wearing a clean set of jeans. The denim is light blue, fading to white on his knees and thighs. A black leather belt holds it up around the slim waist. Sharp hipbones, a thin trail of blond hair leading up to his belly button; he hasn’t buttoned his shirt up. It’s a new shirt too. Black, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the small buttons glistening in the artificial light.

The dog-tags tangle together on his chest. Metal on metal, the soft tinkling which reminds Daryl of rain.

The hair is still wet. Small droplets of water run down his neck and chest. It takes Daryl far too long to realize that his friend’s hair is, in fact, all blond again.

‘Oh my God.’

At the sound of Maggie’s voice, Benjamin looks up from a package he’s holding in his hands. ‘What?’

‘You’re…’ Maggie glances at Glenn before finishing with, ‘clean.’

‘Yeah,’ Benjamin murmurs, ‘took a shower.’

‘Button up the shirt,’ Glenn says before swatting at Maggie playfully, ‘stop staring. You’re married.’

‘Oh, there were some new clothes in the closets upstairs,’ the blond nods. ‘Loads of them, in fact. I’m sure they’ll fit you all too.’

‘It’s not your clothes, sweetie,’ Carol says with a fond smile.

‘The hair then?’ Benjamin asks as he leans with his elbows on the kitchen counter, squinting at the small words on the back of the cardboard box he’s holding. ‘Gave myself a haircut, almost relieved myself of my left ear by accident. Dyed it too. The instructions are a bit faded though and I didn’t have a watch on me, so I just guessed at how long it was supposed to be in for. Always seems long when you’re just waiting around, you know. Fuck me, I’m glad it didn’t turn green or anything. I remember reading about such horror stories online when I first started coloring it. I mean, I did dye it green once, but that’s different.’ He looks up at Carol, ‘does it look okay?’

It takes a couple of moments for Daryl to find his voice. He scoffs loudly. ‘Ya dragged _dye_ around with ya all this time? Good lord.’

‘Hmm-hmm,’ his friend hums before flinging the cardboard box aside. Green eyes pierce the hunter. ‘And a copy of my favorite book. What? You’re gonna bitch about that too? Carried it myself, in my backpack, shit, it wasn’t even hogging space. Didn’t have much else to put in it, did we? It’s not like we had fifty cans of actual food to stack in there. Or even fucking _one_.’

Carol frowns at the accusation in Benjamin’s tone.

Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘ya got something to say to me? Find your nuts and say it then. Or are you fixin’ to go do your nails next? Luggin’ ‘round some nail polish? Ya just stuffed your bag with the damn Walmart beauty department and called it _gear_?’

‘Oh no, I think _you_ got something to say. Why does it matter that I carried it with me? We’ve found a damn _home_. We don’t have to live like wild animals anymore, fucking scavenging, camping, living in the same clothes for months on end,’ Benjamin bites out and then holds up his hands. ‘So I took a shower, and yeah I dyed my hair again, because those people out there?’ He points at the windows, ‘they _see_ us, Daryl. With a thousand layers of sweat and mud on our skin, walker gut on our clothes, blood under our fingernails. What they see is _wild_. And wild is dangerous. You want this? This town, you want Rick to keep having those meds? Then we have to make them like us. It’s a little hard to do sometimes when you look like you’ve slaughtered half of human kind and they bled out on your clothes, all right?’

Daryl scoffs again and makes a throw-away gesture in his general direction.

 A soft knock on the door ends the argument.

‘Raeanne and two guys,’ Noah says as he checks the window. ‘Tara and Abe are with them.’

The hunter watches how Benjamin buttons his shirt up and rolls his shoulders back before walking over to the door, all easy grace and swinging hips. He opens it with a bright smile on his face. ‘Hey guys, come on in.’ He steps aside to let the small group in.

Raeanne beams at him in the passing, ‘woa, you clean up good, Ben!’

‘Thanks,’ Benjamin grins back before leaning in to press a kiss to Tara’s cheek, ‘hey, babe.’

‘Hey,’ Tara answers awkwardly, giving him a quick hug before ducking past Daryl without meeting the hunter’s eye.

Abe nods at him to let Daryl know that everything is all right.

‘This is my husband Davis,’ Raeanne says. ‘And his kid brother, Xander.’

The brother looks just like Davis, the same broad shoulders and black hair. His eyes are dark, wary, as he hides in the shadow of the leader. A sniper rifle is slung over his shoulder, a knife is clipped onto his ankle, just above his boot.

‘Hey, Daryl, good to see you again. How are y'all settling in?’ Davis steps forward, holding out his hand again.

This time, Daryl shakes it. A strong, hard grip. ‘Yeah, we’re good.’

‘All of you in here?’ Davis asks while checking on the other members of the family. ‘They gave you the keys to the house next over too, right?’

‘They did.’

David turns back to Daryl. The hunter is watching him with narrowed eyes. ‘Ah,’ he says. ‘I see. Sticking together, that’s good. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable. Look, it’s getting late and we need to finish these interviews, so Xander is going to take the Father and then you,’ Davis nods at Benjamin, ‘Ben, right?’

‘Benjamin,’ the blond nods, ‘but however you wanna shorten it, man, it’s all good with me.’

‘Good,’ David says. ‘Then you’re with him, later on. Listen.’ He turns to the rest of the group. ‘This is a community of about eighty people, most have been here from the start so they’re not used to seeing new faces. Everyone’s pretty excited to meet you but I’ll ask them to stay back a bit, okay? Tomorrow, you can go out, explore the town and settle in. Get some decent rest, y'all earned it by making it this far. The day after tomorrow, we’ll start givin' each of you jobs.’

‘Jobs?’ Glenn asks, ‘what kind of jobs?’

‘We need people to help out in the pantry and green houses. We could use some for guard duties up in the tower and for the team of runners.’

‘Don’t need any more runners, man,’ Xander speaks up from behind his brother. ‘We’re good.’

Raeanne glances at her husband, who sets his jaw before glancing over his shoulder, ‘you need help, Xan.’

‘I don’t. We’re doing just fine,’ the man says as he leans against the wall. He glares at his own feet. ‘As long as there aren’t any more mouths to feed.’

‘Well there are,’ Raeanne snaps at him. ‘Go wait outside.’

The man looks at her with dark eyes and then huffs, shoving himself away from the wall and out of the door. ‘Sharing is caring, huh?’ He sneers before pulling it closed behind him.

‘Sorry,’ Davis sighs as he rubs at his neck. ‘He’s lost some of his group last week. A run gone bad. Nothing he could do about it, but… They were his guys. He took it hard.’

‘We understand,’ Glenn nods. ‘And we can help assigning the jobs, if you want. Play to our strengths. We’re all good shots, but Maggie has experience on a farm, maybe she can help out in the green houses or the fields.’ He glances at her when she opens her mouth, a warning in his dark eyes before he turns back to the Genesis leader. ‘I used to be a runner for our group. Daryl can hunt. Carol can…’ He stops short, swallowing his words for a moment. ‘She can cook,’ he finishes.

Raeanne gives Carol a pitying smile. ‘Maybe I can get you a spot in the pantry.’

‘I’d like that,’ Carol beams. ‘I’d love to work inside the community, help other people, get to know them. I’m a real people-person.’

‘Me too,’ Benjamin winks, ‘but you don’t want me cooking anything. Let’s wrap these last interviews up, okay? It’s getting late. We suddenly have a house, new friends, and we’re handing over resumes for jobs. It’s a lot. I mean, it’s good and we’re very thankful,’ He grins at Davis. ‘but it’s a lot. And besides, it’s Carl’s bedtime soon.’

That earns him a play scuffle with the boy. He pretends to surrender when a clever kick makes him stumble, hands up and a jaw-cracking smile on his face, ‘all right, officer! All right. You can read me my rights on the way over. Come on, I’ll walk you up. Glenn, Gabriel, you coming?’

Raeanne opens the door for them as Gabriel gets up to follow them out. Glenn kisses Maggie before following too.

Benjamin curls an arm around the narrow shoulders of the kid and casts a look over their shoulders at Daryl.

The hunter dips his head in a curt nod.

_I got him_ , unspoken between them. _Ours to protect_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments on the first chapter; I love reading them!


	3. For our blood

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning finds the family in the living room. Warm sunlight spills in through the windows, illuminating the various sleeping forms on the floors. Carl is splayed out on the couch, all teenage gangly limbs and with his face pressed into one of the pillows to hide from the morning sun. His left hand is stuffed between the cushions, curled around the heft of a knife.

Carol is asleep on the other couch. She’s still wearing her boots, one of her knives on the floor beside her, within easy reach. The gray hair is wild, mussed from tossing and turning in her dreams.

The rest of the family is asleep on the floor. They’ve dragged some blankets down, snagged some pillows from the bedrooms upstairs, but Daryl is curled in a corner near the kitchen. His arm serves as his pillow. He’d draped his own blanket over Carol’s form when he’d relieved Noah from watch duty in the middle of the night. The booted feet scrape over the floor when he turns in his sleep. Nightmares tug at his dreams, distorted images of memories merging with a vivid imagination of happier times. Nails dig into the palms of his hands. Teeth grind together.

A body moves closer to him. Benjamin is awake. He’s sitting with his back against a cupboard, long legs stretched out before him. The green eyes glance over towards Tara, who is on guard duty. Her back is to them.

He reaches out carefully. The fingers sink into the dark hair of his friend.

The hunter starts out of his sleep, eyes blinking open and hand shooting out to grab his bow, which is resting against the wall.

‘It’s me,’ Benjamin says softly. ‘It’s just me. You were grinding your teeth to dust. Go back to sleep.’

Daryl closes his eyes again. The fingers rake through his hair in a soothing rhythm. ‘Thought we’d broken up,’ he murmurs.

‘We have.’

‘Hmm-mmm. Keep telling yourself that.’ He shifts a bit so he’s within easier reach of his friend. ‘How’d ya interview go?’

‘Fine.’

There’s a beat of silence. Daryl cracks one eye open to look up at Benjamin. The dark hair is swept out of his face, fingers trailing over his forehead for a second before burying themselves in his hair again. Benjamin is smiling down at him.

‘What happened?’ Daryl asks.

‘Nothing.’ Benjamin tugs at his ear playfully. ‘You deaf? I said it went fine.’

‘That’s all ya said.’

They look at each other. Blue eyes, green eyes, in the bright morning light. Benjamin is the first to look away. His fingers tighten in the dark hair.

‘I know ya,’ Daryl says softly. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Go back to sleep,’ Benjamin answers, his voice low as he leans over and kisses Daryl’s forehead. ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Guys,’ Tara’s voice cuts in. ‘Someone’s coming over.’

‘I’ll get the door,’ Benjamin says as he gets up, joints cracking. He steps over Daryl and yawns as he goes for the entrance. A soft knock can be heard from the other side. He brushes his hair out of his eyes. The right hand comes to rest upon his knife as his left twists the doorknob.

A young woman is standing on their porch. Brown wavy hair falls past her shoulders, over the summer dress she’s wearing. Her sneakers squeak a bit when she shuffles on her spot nervously. ‘Hi, good morning!’ Her voice is light and cheerful. ‘Oh my gosh, did I wake you? I know it’s early, sorry, but…’

‘Hi,’ Benjamin leans against the door, hand curling around the wood just above his head. From his voice, Daryl can tell that he’s smiling. ‘No, no, it’s fine, I was already up. Good morning, Jennifer, right?’

‘Jenny,’ the woman nods with a beaming smile. ‘We, err, we met at the church last night.’

‘Of course. You’d made the lemonade,’ Benjamin says. ‘Best lemonade I’ve had in years.’

She laughs at that. ‘Thanks, I think it was a bit too sweet, but it’s so hard to get it just…’

‘I like sweet,’ the blond cuts in.

Daryl sits up, pulling one leg up and resting his elbow on his knee. His eye is drawn towards Tara, who pretends to vomit in the windowsill. His lips quirk up in a smirk.

‘Oh,’ Jenny giggles nervously, ‘well, good! I got you some stuff from the pantry to get you all started. They said you didn’t have much stuff, so I figured you wouldn’t have anything for breakfast. Here.’

The hand falls away from the knife as Benjamin steps forward to accept a cardboard box with supplies. ‘That’s really kind of you, thank you.’

‘It’s nothing. And not much, you all can come by later today to get more stuff. Everyone is on rations, of course, but you can come and get those for you and your family. We also found some clothes I think the little girl may fit, one of the houses,’ she waves down the street, ‘there used to live a young family, so… Lots of toys too. The crib is a bit heavy, so maybe you can come by later and help carry it?’

‘Sure, yeah, of course, we’ll send someone around. Honestly,’ Benjamin puts the box down by the door, ‘you guys have been so kind.’

‘Everyone is just really excited,’ Jenny tells him. ‘It’s been a while since there were some new people. And a toddler too! She’s so cute! If you ever need anyone to look after her…’

‘Ahw, thank you so much, Jenny,’ the man says. He looks over his shoulder, ‘oh, the rest is waking up, figure I best start on breakfast, huh?’

‘Sure, yeah!’ Jenny pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘If you need anything, I’m down at the pantry. It’s the building right across from where your cars are parked, okay?’

‘Okay, thanks again.’

‘You’re welcome!’ She beams and then turns on her heels, walking off.

Benjamin watches for a while before closing the door with a soft click. He leans against the door for a second before looking at Tara, who’s grinning at him. ‘What?’

‘Are you cheating on me already?’ the girls asks.

‘What?’

Tara glances at Daryl.

The hunter smirks back, ‘bet she were real happy it was you who opened the door, huh? ‘Cause ya like sweet things and all.’

‘And you’re really strong,’ Tara chimes in as if the jab by Daryl had been permission. ‘Maybe you can carry that heavy crib, hmm? I bet she keeps it in her bedroom.’

Daryl snorts as Benjamin rolls his eyes, ‘you guys wouldn’t know common courtesy if it knocked you on your asses. She’s just being nice, is all. Friendly girl, was send over to give us some things to make breakfast, I don’t see what all the fuss is about.’

‘And you were just all bedhead and smiles and flexing muscles by accident, I guess,’ Tara nods.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Benjamin scoffs. Then he walks over to shake Carl’s shoulder and then Carol’s before aiming a kick at Gabriel’s mattress. ‘Wake up everyone, come on now, don’t make me a liar. Told the neighbor you were waking up. Come on, rise and shine. Maggie, Glenn, stop being adorable and let go of each other.’

‘Fuck off,’ Glenn mutters into Maggie’s skin, drawing her closer.

‘Tara, help me out?’ Benjamin asks as he picks the box up and carries it to the kitchen. ‘It involves cooking. Hey, there are eggs in here, I can do eggs!’

Tara snorts and drags herself to the kitchen, ‘he sounds so proud.’

Daryl scoffs and shares another smirk with her, ‘bless his heart.’

 

 

It’s noon when his family starts to get restless. They’ve already explored every inch of the house, rooted through all the cupboards and climbed up the attic in the hopes of finding something to entertain them for a while. Now, everyone is gathered in the living room again. Carl and Noah are reading one of the boy’s comic books on the couch, their heads bend close together as eyes roam the pages. Glenn paces in the kitchen. Maggie watches him from her spot on the floor.

Daryl is sitting on top of the kitchen counter, his legs folded beneath him. Dirty boots scrape over the surface. No one cares. He observes his family carefully.

If it were up to him, they’d stay inside for the day. Wait it out. See what happens. After all, he’s a hunter; he has learned to sit still and wait, for hours, until something else made the wrong move and stepped right into his cross hairs.

But he knows the others aren’t like that.

His gaze wanders over to Benjamin. The blond is sitting on the opposite side of the room, back against the wall and eyes closed. He’s not sleeping. His hands are fidgeting. The lips are pressed into a thin line, almost like he’s preventing himself from speaking. Maybe he’s consciously pacing himself, he must know that the constant chatter gets on people’s nerves sometimes. He hasn’t said much since breakfast.

Carol is watching him, she thinks he doesn’t notice.

Tara keeps stealing glances too. Her attention is divided between him and the town outside.

They’re waiting for him, he knows.

‘All right,’ Daryl says before hopping off the counter with an easy move. The boots thump down on the floorboards, causing Carl and Noah to look up from their comic. Benjamin’s eyes snap open. ‘They said explore, right? See them sights? Go on then.’

Glenn stops his pacing and looks at him.

Carol looks unsure.

Benjamin gets up but folds his arms in front of his chest before leaning back against the wall.

Daryl scoffs and throws his crossbow onto his back, ‘fine.’ He stalks over to the door and throws it open. His boots thunder down the small set of stairs of their porch. The gravel of their garden path crunches as he takes a second to get his bearings.

The street is empty. Out in the distance, he can see a couple of people near the fields, which he supposes are where the greenhouses are. He spots some shadows in houses, hears the giggle of children playing and the soft murmur of a community on a sunny afternoon.

Glenn jumps down next to him, a hand on his knife. ‘You sure about this?’

‘Ain’t going to know until we know,’ Daryl tells him. He squints against the sun. ‘I’m fixin’ to go check on the others. Y’all have a look around. Talk to some people, find out what this place is, how it works. Talk to Ben, the girl who brought over that food said somethin’ about more supplies. Rations.’

Glenn nods, ‘okay. I’ll keep an eye on things here, you go.’

Daryl clasps him on the shoulder. Glenn puts a hand on his, gripping it tightly.

‘Hey, Daryl?’ Carl comes out of the house, ‘are you going to see my dad? Can I come with you?’

‘Hmm-mm. Don’t bring asskicker.’

‘Of course not,’ Carl scoffs, ‘Maggie is looking after her for a bit.’

‘All right. Get goin’ then.’

 

 

It feels strange to walk through the little town. The sun is shining down on them, watery in the early morning, and the wind brings them whispers of fall and winter. They have gotten used to empty towns. Deserted streets and doors off their hinges. For months, they haven’t come across a single town that hadn’t been raided. Some before it all went to shit completely, in those twilight weeks between mayhem and apocalypse, which meant that the kitchen cupboards were still stocked but people had taken the televisions and art work. Others after, which means blood and gore everywhere and not a single thing left which holds any meaning in the new world.

These houses are all clean. There are televisions on the walls, clean welcome mats and unlocked doors.

People run their errands.

They spot a woman doing laundry in her backyard. Clean shirts and jeans flowing in the breeze from a line. She sings while doing it, her voice carrying on the wind.

A man greets them by name even though they haven’t seen him before. Carl lifts his hand to wave awkwardly, eyes wide and disbelieving. Daryl just scowls at the street in front of them.

The boy seems to soak it all up. He peeks into people’s houses when they walk by, trying to see past curtains and over fences. After a block, he looks up at Daryl. ‘Did you ever live in a place like this?’

Daryl scoffs at the notion. ‘Pssh. No way in hell.’

The blue eyes shine with teenage curiosity. ‘You don’t like it?’

Daryl looks at the white houses, the picket fences, the perfectly maintained flowerbeds. ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘Too rich for our blood.’

‘We used to live in a neighborhood like this,’ Carl says as he pushes his hands into his pockets, almost skipping in order to keep up with the archer’s long strides. ‘I mean - kind of like this. We didn’t have a mansion or anything, but it was nice, I guess. I almost don’t remember.’ He glances sideways, ‘is that weird?’

‘Ya were just a kid. Kids don’t have the best of memories for things like that. They think every shit pile called home is golden.’

Carl hunches his shoulders, ‘did you?’

Daryl eyes the boy’s posture. The hidden hands, chin tucked down to his chest, the curling shoulders, the hat which hides most of his expression, except for the thin stripe which his lips have become. He knows the body language, of course. The boy is waiting for a slap. Maybe not physical, because he still walks shoulder to shoulder with him, close enough to be within reach and not ducking out of it like he would have done, years and years ago. But he’s still waiting for a vicious remark, or a cutting glare.

‘Was as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine,’ Daryl mutters. ‘For a while, at least. Didn’t have a dime to call ours but our mom… Hmm. She tried.’

‘You told me about your mom. How she died.’

The memory of the prison seems hazy in the light of day. He remembers walking down the dark and damp corridors, the silence between them deafening, the weight of all that the boy was not saying pressing down on them. The hard blue eyes, hands resting on the smoking gun in his holster. He remembers wanting to tell the boy something real. How sorry he was. How sometimes shit just happens and all you can do is watch how it all turns to smoke and ashes before your eyes.

‘Yeah. Might have liked her booze and Slims but she tried. She was good people, my mom,’ Daryl says with a curt nod. ‘Was other people who made her go bad. In the end, it was her, but she weren’t my mom no more.’

‘Kind of like my mom?’ Carl asks carefully.

‘Nah, man, nothing like yours.’ He stops walking. It makes the boy look up at him with a questioning look in his eyes. ‘’Cause your mom loved you. Ya know that, right?’

‘Your mom didn’t love you?’

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek. ‘I’m sure she did.’

‘But you said…’

The hunter sighs, ‘look, sometimes it’s easier to roll over and play possum, all right? To just let things be. Whatever happens, happens and it won’t even feel like it’s ya fault because it’s just the way things _are_ , and it’s hard enough to just make sure you’re all right. Not everyone is strong enough to help others too. Not even when they are just kids.’ Daryl hitches his bow higher onto his shoulder. ‘But your mom _was_ strong, okay? For you. And asskicker. For ya dad. She could have given up long before she had to.’

‘I thought she hated me, in the end. Because I’d been so mean to her.’

‘She could have never hated you,’ Daryl tells the boy. Then he smirks down at him. ‘No matter how much of a brat ya were.’

Carl grins back. ‘She told me I was going to beat this world.’

‘And ya will.’ The smirk fades into a real smile, small and private. ‘C’mon, get to it,’ he nods at a low building across the street.

Together they slip inside to find the doctor taking stock of the supplies. She’s holding a clipboard and pencil, marking down the number small glass vials on the shelves. An easy smile appears on her face when she turns to them. She probably had been expecting them.

‘Good morning,’ she says as she puts the clipboard on her desk. ‘I’m sorry I missed you yesterday, Daryl. I was tending to Sasha when you visited my clinic. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Ella. And you must be Carl.’

‘How’s my dad?’

The smile fades a little. ‘He’s not responding to the medicine yet. I’m sorry.’

‘What does that mean,’ Carl demands as he steps forward, a hand on his knife. ‘Just give him more!’

Ella glances at Daryl before meeting the boy’s eyes steadily. ‘It means we have to give him a bit more _time_. We can’t up the volume or we might overdose him. Too much of a good thing. We wait a bit longer and if he doesn’t respond by tonight, we switch to a different kind of medicine, okay?’

Daryl eyes Carl’s knife, muscles tensing in preparation of an intervention. ‘Why not switch now?’

‘Michonne and Eugene are responding well to the treatment. They were less sick, their bodies bounce back sooner. Rick just needs time to heal.’

‘But you don’t know for sure,’ Carl says, ‘you don’t know whether he’s going to be all right.’

Ella shakes her head, ‘no. We never know that for sure, but we’re doing the best that we can under these circumstances. You can see your friends but we’ve put Sasha, Rosita and Rick in quarantine. Their immune systems are compromised.’

Carl frowns.

‘They don’t need your germs,’ Daryl tells him by way of explanation, ‘could end them early. C’mon, kid.’ He gestures down the hall. ‘Last one on the left.’

He and the doctor watch as the boy slowly walks over to the last door. The footsteps echo in the silent building. Boots squeaking with every step. There’s caution in the hand that trails over the walls, fear in the way his hand is still curled around the heft of his knife. Daryl watches but doesn’t say anything. He can hardly talk with the way his fingers are clutching the band of his crossbow.

‘He hasn’t regained consciousness yet,’ Ella says when Carl’s face lights up and he runs into the last room. They listen to him calling Michonne’s name. ‘Rick. We’re trying to keep him under for now, just prevent his body from working too hard. It could burn him up.’

‘Whatever ya gotta do,’ Daryl shrugs.

‘It won’t be long before we can release Michonne and Eugene. Sasha is conscious, but she’s running a high fever. She doesn’t always understand what’s going on. It’d be best not to let the boy see her now.’

Daryl nods his understanding.

‘He can see his dad, though,’ Ella flashes him a smile. ‘I’ll open up the curtains. There’s a window on the right side. Is there anything else I can do for you? Cuts? Nasty bruises? Infections? Any of your group dealing with something worse than a cold?’

Daryl shakes his head.

‘I’m glad. It’s good that you found us.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl says softly before going down the hallway. He leans against the doorframe.

Carl is standing in front of Michonne, who is once again sitting on her table. She’s made a bed of it, with blankets and pillows, and is sitting cross-legged on top of it. Her katana is on a windowsill nearby, within easy reach.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the boy says enthusiastically. ‘It’s huge. There’s hot water, _running_ water, and we got lights! And we got _two_ of them! We haven’t yet decided who stays where but,’ he rocks on his heels and smirks at her, ‘I’ll save you a bedroom next to mine, okay? For when you’re better.’

Michonne lifts an eyebrow, ‘I want one with a balcony.’

Carl thinks about that, ‘we’ve got one that has a window that gives access to the roof. You can have that one. The roof can be your balcony.’

‘Can we eat pudding on it?’

The boy sniggers, ‘I’ll find us some. And some stale M&M’s.’

‘That’s my boy,’ Michonne grins back. Her gaze snaps to the hunter. ‘Hey.’

He dips his chin. ‘How’re ya holdin’ up?’

‘I’m good.’

‘Good.’

Carl shoves Michonne’s shoulder, ‘we got a television too!’

‘Too bad there’s nothing on it.’ She points out.

‘Ah, but there’s a Playstation,’ Carl folds his arms proudly, ‘we could play games.’

‘Where’s Eugene?’ Daryl cuts in.

‘Having a shower,’ Michonne answers. A sly smile creeps onto her face. ‘They brought us breakfast in bed.’

Daryl scoffs while Carl laughs. The boy leans against the table, ‘when are you getting out of here?’

‘Couple of days, they said.’

‘So tomorrow,’ Daryl mumbles with a knowing look.

Michonne grins back, ‘yeah.’

‘I’ll save you a good bedroom,’ Carl promises. ‘I mean – they’re all good, but, you know. I’ll save you one.’

'Thanks, kid.'

'You know what else I found?'

Daryl huffs and turns on his heels to walk back out into the hallway so they can have their moment together. One of the windows has been uncovered. Ella is moving around inside the room. He walks up to the window, planting one hand on the glass while peering inside.

It's Rick's room. The former sheriff is vast asleep on an operating table. A blanket has been tucked around his feet, legs and waist, but his chest is bared. Someone has cleaned him up. The dark curls are combed out, no longer a mess of dirt and sweat, and even his beard has been trimmed slightly, though they haven't shaved him completely. His skin is pale, far too pale for having spent every second of the past months out on the road.

Ella is leaning over him, a stethoscope pressed to his chest. She listens to his heart. Then his lungs. Her blond hair is pulled back in a braid. She isn't wearing a lab coat, but Daryl can picture her in one. He wonders whether she used to work in a small clinic, or large hospital out in one of the cities.

It's clear that she's comfortable around the medical equipment. She pulls the blanket higher so it covers Rick's chest and writes something down with a concerned little frown marring her face.

'Is he in there?'

Daryl looks back over his shoulder to find Carl lingering on the threshold of Michonne's room. He holds on to the door, wobbles on his feet and squints up at the hunter.

'Hmm-mm.'

'Is he...' the question fades into nothing as Carl trails off. He scuffs his shoe on the doorpost.

'It's just your old man,' Daryl says gruffly. 'Ain't nothing to worry about.'

'Does he look okay?'

Daryl shrugs. 'You've heard the lady. He's knocked out good. Doesn't look no different than yesterday.'

Carl nods and then walks over to stand beside the archer. One hand comes up to rest on the glass too, fingers splayed out against the cool surface. Then he leans forward, pressing his forehead against the barrier. His breath forms a small cloud which nearly obscures his view.

The door opens and Ella steps out of the room, closing the door behind her.

'His heartbeat is steady. The lungs still sound a bit clogged, but we'll have to see if that clears up on its own. We really don't have the means for massive surgery.' She hugs the clipboard to her chest and offers Carl a kind smile. 'But he's doing good. He's fighting. You can talk to him, if you want. The glass really isn't that thick and he might like to hear your voice.'

'It won't make a difference. You said so yourself: he’s out cold. He won’t hear,’ Carl says as he sets his jaw stubbornly.

The doctor’s light eyes flash to Daryl in a concerned manner.

The hunter shrugs and looks back at Rick. The other man is far too skinny. He can clearly see the collarbones, the sunken chest, the far too prominent cheekbones.

'Let's go back,' Carl mutters before slinking away.

Daryl bites on his thumb for a second. He lifts the hand away from the glass, only to bring the knuckles down on it to produce three rapid taps before walking away.

 

He finds the kid outside and is only marginally surprised that he waited for him.

The town goes about its business. People cross the road to visit friends. Neighbors greet each other. Someone walks a dog.

'We're not safe,' Carl says. There's a hard look in his eye. 'That's what dad said. No matter what I think. No matter what I feel. No matter how many people are around. No matter what anyone says. I'm not safe. Judith isn't safe.' He looks up at the hunter. 'Never let your guard down. I promised him that. This place? It's good. It feels good. But it only takes one second and it's over. We are not safe.'

A man walks the wall, gun on his back but hands in his pockets. A woman sits with her back to the gate, smoking a cigarette while a walker stumbles across the road somewhere far in the distance. Raeanne is up in the watch tower. Her laughter rings out over the town as she watches how two young men shoot hoops on the square. She catches sight of them and raises her hand to wave.

Daryl takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders and waves back. Then he looks down at Carl. ‘No, ya’re right. We ain’t.’

 


	4. Sweet things

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the morning Daryl spends by walking the wall. The structure is made of large trees, the barks cleaned so no boots will ever find enough traction to be able to climb up without equipment. They’re stacked high, casting dark shadows at the strange border. Metal poles every couple of steps hold them in place. It looks like a solid construction.

Daryl starts behind their home. The wall runs through their backyards. In the shadows, he can hear walkers growling and hissing beyond the wall. Grass crunches beneath his boots, dry due to the long summer. It won’t be long until fall will punish them with dark clouds and the need for heavier coats. He looks up at the cloudless sky for a second, peering through his dark hair. He can’t wait for the first drops.

He used to listen to how the rain fell on their trailer. The soft tinkling and the deafening drumming. When he was young and his mother had been around, he’d always liked storms best. The heavy showers which would drench him to the bone whenever his dad would send him out to get cigarettes or beer, because it meant that his mother would wrap him up in their biggest towel when he came back, cheeks pinked and teeth chattering, and she’d hug him tightly until he could feel his toes again. Later, when she was gone and they’d moved into the trailer, he’d liked the soft tinkling best. The pitter-patter of rain, so soft that he could still hear his father come home, stumbling and drunk, and could wriggle out of the small window into the night in order to escape the angry outbursts which were sure to follow the home-coming.

Now he just likes rain, any kind, because it washes the dirt from his skin, the blood from his hands.

He follows the sun. His left hand runs over the felled trees as he walks the perimeter.

The houses are all copies of each other. He walks through backyards, spotting men and women going about their business. No one seems surprised to see him. Some nod, others raise their hands, but they all greet him. Easy smiles and mouthed words, muted by glass and distance. He ignores most even though he sees all.

Sometimes he sees fractured parts of his family in the different houses. Maggie who shows Judith off to an elderly woman. Glenn who looks on with a shuttered look on his face. Another house hosts Noah, hunched and with that lost look in his eyes, Abraham who just looks angry while Tara sits at a kitchen table, one hand on the heft of her knife and the other curled around a steaming cup of coffee.

He spots Gabriel at the church. The Father admires the building.

He passes the houses, comes across the outer fields. People are tending to the crops, spraying water and driving shovels deep into the earth. They don’t pay him any mind after calling out a cheerful greeting and getting no response. Looks are shared, of course, but they leave him be. Shards of conversations reach him; familiar drawls which put his own accent to shame.

He walks all around the town. Probably comes across all sorts of places he’s not supposed to be.

Eventually, he reaches the gates. There’s a ladder leading up to a platform. A guy is standing guard. He glances over his shoulder when Daryl’s boots hit the first sport.

‘Hey, man,’ he greets when the hunter climbs up beside him. ‘Came to have a look?’

Daryl nods but doesn’t say anything. He eyes the gun the man is holding.

‘Found it in an old ladies home, if you’ll believe it,’ the guy says. He spits over the wall. ‘Hope she never had to fire it. Kickback is a bitch, probably would have broken her shoulder in two.’

The hunter grunts as he turns to look out over the road leading up to the gates. His attention is drawn to the walker traps. ‘Y’all built those?’

‘The spikes?’ Yeah. Doesn’t help much, to be honest. Those are the only ones, they don’t go ‘round the town or nothing. Roamers can walk the wall or come up via the road. They were Xander’s idea.’

‘Davis’ brother?’

The guy nods and sucks on his teeth for a second. ‘Yeah. Davis gave the okay. ‘s just a way to keep Xander busy, I’m guessing. He’s in charge of the runners but they’ve raided most of the places nearby. The fields are doing all right with keeping us fed, anyway. Oh well,’ he shrugs and inspects his shoes, a pair of rundown trainers. ‘Keeps them off the streets, right?’

‘Right,’ Daryl answers. He notices a group of men and woman coming towards the gates. They’re just shadows between the trees at the moment, but he swings his crossbow over his shoulder to take aim.

‘Whoa,’ the man steps forward and pushes it down, then raises his hands when Daryl turns on him instead. ‘They’re our people, man. Lower it. Now.’

Daryl takes a step back, fingers tightening on the bow before he drops it.

The man eyes him warily. ‘Got a good eye there, though. Relax.’ Then he turns around, whistles sharply, and two men come running to open the gates for the group. ‘Daniel’s group coming home,’ he shouts down at them. ‘Just crack it open.’

Daryl watches how the gates open smoothly, just a little way so the men and women can squeeze through. Pleasantries are exchanged, jibe and inside jokes before the group moves on towards the main building and the gate closes again.

‘What’s yonder?’ he asks, gesturing towards the woods, where the group came from.

‘A building site,’ the man answers with a shrug. ‘They’re cleaning some new trees, just in case some need replacing. There’s even talk about expanding Genesis, but I don’t know whether that’s just the latest rumor or a real thing, you know? People talk. About anything,’ he scoffs and looks at the hunter. ‘Guess some things don’t change, huh?’

‘Guess,’ Daryl echoes.

The guy reaches into his pocket, ‘you smoke?’

‘Ran out.’

‘’s fucked up,’ the man nods as he pulls out a package of cigarettes. He takes one out, then tosses the package at Daryl, who catches it easily. ‘Take that. You can talk to Xander about getting more. Try to keep it under wraps or the whole supply chain is going to come crashing down. Davis doesn’t approve.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Thinks just because we’re using solar power, we all need to be going green or something. Healthy shit, you know? Fucking bullshit. He won’t give you much hell, just don’t tell him where you got them from.’

‘Sounds like fucking prison,’ Daryl murmurs as he digs a cigarette out and puts it between his lips. He remembers having to give things Merle needed to some shady guy in an even shadier bar near the prison. Crooked guard, most likely. He’d never asked Merle. Like always, he’d had just done as he’d been told. ‘Got a light?’

‘Yeah.’

They smoke in silence while standing guard. When the taste goes sour in his mouth and he’s just smoking plastic, Daryl tosses the butt over the wall. ‘Xander just gives them up?’

‘Sharing is caring,’ the man says easily. ‘You hunt?’ he nods at the crossbow.

‘Yeah.’

‘Be sure to share a rabbit with him or something, then.’

Daryl dips his chin, ‘a'right.’ He sighs and throws the bow onto his back again, readying himself to start back down the ladder. ‘Guess I got to share a rabbit with you too, huh?’

The man grins down at him, ‘I’d never say no to meat that isn’t fucking canned.’

 

 

The first cigarette had just been to still his cravings. He’d smoked it quick, small puffs to get the nicotine to rush through his system again. At first it had made him slightly nauseous, the too fast breathing and too sudden end of his cold turkey streak. He’d smoked right through that.

Now he lights his second, lets it dangle from his lower lip before biting down on it, sucking the smoke in and holding it in his lungs until they start to ache. Then it rushes out, whistles past his teeth, over his tongue. He lets himself taste it, not his favorite brand but still, he isn’t picky where his addiction is concerned.

The second smoke is always just for his own enjoyment. It’s indulgent, really, but he doesn’t care.

He passes the pantry. Carol is standing near a picnic table with several women of the community. He recognizes some faces from the church last night but can’t recall their names. Carol is wearing different clothes. A pressed set of pants, a blouse, a fucking cardigan. He scoffs and takes another drag from his cigarette.

The women gesture to him. They whisper, talk, laugh but Carol just smiles and touches their elbows in that conspiring way women have before saying her goodbye’s. She has to run slightly to catch up to him, falling into step beside him.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye.

‘Just meeting the community,’ Carol says in that fake, light tone she never uses when around her family. ‘They’re really friendly.’

Daryl scoffs at that.

‘I see you had your first sharing is caring experience,’ the woman says. ‘Who gave you the cigarettes?’

‘Guy at the gates. Xander’s trading them. Promised them a rabbit.’ He catches the look she gives him. ‘Ain’t nothing.’

‘You’re going to hunt again?’

‘’s what I do.’

Carol folds her arms while they walk down the block. She ducks her head a little, almost disappearing beside him. ‘You think that’s a good idea?’

‘Going out to hunt?’ He asks. ‘Why not? Everyone’s going to get those damn jobs, might as well do somethin’ I’m good at.’

‘I know you,’ Carol sighs softly. ‘You don’t like this. The house, the community, the normalcy of it all, but we really do have to try. Make an effort. I get why you want to go back out there, but…’

Daryl scoffs again. ‘Don’t preach. All this?’ He gestures to the small town. ‘All them picket fence families? That ain’t normal to me. This whole community? Pssh. Sharing is _caring_ , huh? That ain’t what my daddy taught me, all right? Sharing just means you weren’t strong enough to make it yours.’ Daryl gets into her face, all narrowed eyes and taunt muscles. ‘I’m here, ain’t I? And I’ll get one of them stupid jobs and I’ll fuckin’ share my rabbits, so don’t climb up my asshole about _normalcy_ and don’t ya dare talk to me about making a damn _effort_ , okay?’

She isn’t scared of him, of course. Instead of backing away, or flinching, she just stares him down.

‘What? You want me to cut my hair, cover of my ink, wear a goddamn shirt and tie? Hang my crossbow up to dry? Want me to go to church on Sundays and fake that everything is gonna be okay as long as we fuckin’ play pretend? I’ll get a job, I’ll jump their fuckin’ hoops, all right? What more do you want?’

‘I want you to have a shower,’ she tells him. ‘And I want you stick around. That’s all I’m asking, Daryl; that you stay with us.’

‘What the hell,’ he scoffs and turns on his heel, throwing a final glare over his shoulder for good measure. ‘I ain’t leavin’!’

‘Not yet,’ she says softly but he’s already gone.

 

He does take a shower, in the end.

First, he explores every inch of the house they’re currently squatting in. He goes through drawers, closets, inspects the various knickknacks on the shelves. It doesn’t tell him anything about who used to live in this place. The picture frames are empty. The drawers have been cleared out.

Clothes are carefully stacked in the closets. Varying sizes, styles. Everything is organized on color, which makes him slightly nauseous, thinking that someone actually took the time to create a damn rainbow in every closet he opens.

A couple of hangers are empty now. Benjamin had already claimed a new shirt yesterday, but this morning he’d noticed that Noah, Glenn and Maggie were wearing new clothes as well.

It feels strange to stand in front of a closet, trying to decide what to wear. All the shirts he keeps in his backpack are ratty, covered in grime and dirt. The shirt he’s wearing now, he’s been wearing for weeks. Sometimes he’d wash it out in a creek somewhere and let it dry on his back, but mostly he didn’t care enough to bother.

He isn’t one to take pride in his appearance. Not before, and certainly not now. The clothes he wears are practical; sturdy shoes, dark clothes to blend in with shadows and the night. The vest is the only item he treasures. The wings have started to fade, no longer their clear white, but still visible and stark on his back. He remembers finding it in one of the thrift stores down the road from where he’d lived. He’d ducked in to grab a few shirts, maybe find a pair of jeans that would serve him well enough, but his hands had lingered on the leather vest instead. He hadn’t needed it. It had been more expensive than he’d liked. He was used to spending a couple of bucks on his shirts, hand-me-downs, faded and already softened by someone else, but the leather had looked brand new, shiny and supple in his hands. The wings white as snow.

He’d stood there for minutes in contemplation. Normally he’d never waste money on something as useless as a damn vest, with wings no less, but Merle was off on another bender and their dad was finally six feet under. For the first time in years, hell, decades, he’d had money to spare.

There was no point in saving it, he’d said to himself. Merle would always be back, with that goofy grin and not a penny in his name, relying on his little brother to fix them dinner and swiping any money left over for drugs and women. He’d never minded much, was always glad to see his brother even if it left him broke and in trouble with the landlord again.

It had come down to a simple notion in the end. He’d wanted the vest. So he got it.

The first time he’d slipped the leather on, outside of the shop, in the soft light of a Georgia afternoon, he’d felt fucking reborn.

It has become his second skin now. The leather is scuffed and torn in places but that just makes it his, he reckons. He remembers how he’d gotten every scratch, from that drunken tumble he’d taken before and the clawing walkers after, he remembers them all.

After a couple of minutes, he just grabs the first shirt he sees. A gray and black plaid.

He grabs a dark pair of jeans and underwear which look about his size and heads down to the bathroom.

A window is open. The last summer breeze of the season ghosts over the white tiles. There’s a shower, a toilet, a sink and cupboard. A hamper in the corner. A stack of towels near the window.

He dumps his new clothes on top of the closed toilet lid and kicks his backpack into a corner. He doesn’t close the window but does lower the blinds. They rattle softly due to the wind. With the harsh light dulled, he takes out his razor, puts it next to the sink for later, and makes sure the door is locked before shrugging out of the vest and shirt he’s been wearing for weeks now.

The shirt is a lost cause. He throws the vest in the hamper where it joins Benjamin’s hoodie and Carl’s favorite shirt.

Then he sinks down, unlacing his boots. Mud comes away from the laces. There’s blood on the sides from where he’d kicked a walker’s skull to mush some days ago. His fingers are stained with filth when he finally manages to take them off. He takes his socks off too. They cling to his skin, to forgotten blisters and sores he never noticed as long as he just kept the boots on.

The socks join the shirt by the door.

It feels strange to walk around barefooted again. He can’t remember the last time he had taken them off for longer than a quick wash, maybe it had even been back at the prison.

The cold, white tiles kiss his pale feet. He grabs his boots and puts them in the sink. Water rushes over them. He uses his rag to clean them properly, washing away the filth and blood.

He puts them up to dry next to the window.

Then he unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his jeans and steps out of them. He empties the pockets, throwing his lighter into his backpack, dumping the belt on his pile of new clothing and removing the knife. He puts that on the pile of towels, within easy reach.

The ratty pair of boxers he’d been wearing is discarded too.

He steps into the shower, closing the glass door behind him. With a rough flick of his hands, he opens both taps, hot and cold. Of course, the cold hits him first. Harsh and stinging, making him gasp. Hands on the tiles, spine arched to stop his arms from shaking too bad. Long hair, which slowly gets drenched, clings to his cheek and forehead, blinding him until he runs a hand through it, pushing it back. He looks down at the drain. The water is gray, black, red, fucking filthy.

Slowly, the water starts to heat up. He looks up, lets it fall onto his face, opens his mouth only to spit it out again. A lazy hand rubs over his left shoulder. Grit and dirt mixes with water under his fingertips.

He grabs a bottle from one of the shelves. Doesn’t care what it is, really. He squirts some in his hand and rubs at his chest, his arms, washing his armpits, then his groin before removing the dirt from his legs and feet. He washes his hair.

Blindly, he turns a valve. Slowly, slowly, inch by inch. The water gets hotter and hotter.

Steam billows around him. Fogs up the glass door. He wipes at it, useless, and spits down the drain again. The water between his feet is clear now but he still scrubs himself raw.

One hand running over his abs, the other one still turning the valve. Closing off the cold, heat taking over.

It starts to bite his skin. Red blotches become visible on his tanned arms, his pale chest.

He lets it rain down on his face. Red hot and angry, irritation turning into pain turning into torture.

When he can’t stand it anymore, he bites down on his lips, moaning and whimpering before jerking away from the boiling water and shutting the shower off.

Cold tiles against his heated skin. The loving kiss of civilization, he thinks bitterly before stepping out.

He wraps a towel around his waist. Clears the mirror of any fog and spreads shaving cream over his chin and upper lip. He leans in close in order to see what he’s doing, hips digging into the sink. He shaves, leaving behind only a faint stubble, unwilling to go completely clean shaven. He rinses, too hot skin under too cold water, and leans back again.

His skin is blotchy from the assault. He can barely even see the scars this way.

The new clothes fit him fine. Dark shirt, dark jeans, his belt in place once more and knife firmly clipped to the front.

Several minutes later, he walks down the set of stairs. Still barefooted, a ball of clean socks bouncing from his left to his right hand, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his elbows. The top buttons aren’t done up, revealing a sliver of bronzed skin.

His family takes immediate notice, of course. They have all gathered in the living room again, speaking in hushed whispers about their day, the people they’d met, which buildings they had been into. Surprised looks cause Daryl to scowl at the floor. The conversations halts. Maggie lifts her eyebrows while Tara turns in her seat to look.

‘What,’ he snaps at Glenn, who is closest.

‘Nothing,’ the Korean says, a small smile creeping onto his face. ‘Davis came by, he wants to meet tomorrow morning to discuss the job-situation. Do you want to go or…’

‘You do it,’ Daryl grunts as he falls into a chair at the kitchen table. He bends down to puts his socks on. ‘Take Maggie with ya.’

‘Why?’ Maggie asks curiously.

Because we’re not safe, Daryl wants to say, but instead he just shrugs. ‘Should be one person with brains at the table.’

Glenn shoves his shoulder roughly, the smile morphing into a grin. ‘Thanks. Anyway, we met a lot of people today. It all seems very… normal. Benjamin and Noah picked up Judith’s crib. We got her some clean clothes as well.’

Carl jumps to his feet, ‘you’ll never guess what else Benjamin got!’

Daryl slumps in his seat, eyeing the teenager for a second through his bangs. The kid is bouncing on the spot. ‘What?’

‘ _Chocolate_!’

Blue eyes snap to Benjamin, who is sitting in a windowsill. One leg pulled up, feet on the wood while the other dangles down. He leans against the glass, blond hair swept away from his eyes. A teasing smile lingers around the corners of his mouth, even though he’s not looking at the hunter. He’s on guard duty.

‘He got us chocolate,’ Carl breathes, ‘we saved you some! Just a tiny bit, but…’ He holds out his hand. There’s one piece of chocolate wrapped in silver paper on his palm. ‘Here.’

‘They gave you this?’ Daryl asks suspiciously.

Benjamin grins, ‘turns out Jenny actually works down at the pantry. The girl who brought us breakfast?’ he says when Daryl just frowns. ‘I went to get our rations and what do you know,’ he laughs and turns his head slightly. There’s a lollipop sticking out of the left corner of his mouth. ‘She remembered I like sweet things.’

Daryl scoffs.

Tara laughs and shakes her head. ‘You’re a dork. You ran into Xander down at the pantry too, right? It looks like that guy is this town’s dealer or something. He told Abraham he could get him some booze, if he wanted.’

‘Daryl said Xander would trade him cigarettes if he shared some game, right, Daryl?’ Carol asks with a frown. At the hunter’s nod, she folds her arms. ‘Seems like he’s more into trading than he is into sharing. What did he want from you, Ben?’

‘Nothing,’ Benjamin says as he leans back against the window, eyes darting away. ‘We just talked a bit. He’s okay with taking some of ours on as his runners now.’

Carol laughs, ‘well, isn’t that a change of heart from yesterday. Is there someone you didn’t charm this morning?’

Benjamin shrugs. He doesn’t look at her.

‘Here,’ Carl says to draw Daryl’s attention away from the conversation. He puts the piece of chocolate on the table.

‘You take it, brat,’ he murmurs before grabbing his spare set of boots from his pack. He stomps them on.

‘You don’t like chocolate?’ the boy asks.

Daryl grabs his cigarettes and lighter before making his way out to the porch. ‘Fuckin’ hate sweet things,’ he says as he slips out.

Outside, he rests his forearms on the banister. Water still drips from his wet hair, soaking the collar of the new shirt. He lets the dark strands fall into his face, using it to shield most of his expression. He looks down at the clean fingernails, plucks at the wood of the banister, and thinks about Rick.

He wonders whether this is what the sheriff would have done. Whether he would have gotten clean, would have shaved, would have pretended to be all right with all of this even though there’s dread and disgust coiling in his stomach. There’s fear, low in his belly and up his spine.

He knows that Rick would have stepped up as their leader. With forced smiles and jerky handshakes, a promise of a red-handled machete in his dark eyes; hidden well enough for others to believe his every word of sincere gratitude. And Daryl knows he would have been there, right behind his brother. A lethal shadow in the wake of all that civilization, a bloody handprint on anyone who would have dared to lay a finger on any of them, that soft whisper of air which makes his bow sing whenever he releases a bolt. 

Now, people turn to Daryl to shake his hand and welcome his family to the community. He can’t help but flinch every time. It feels all wrong.

This isn’t who he is. These clothes, this house, these people, none of it is his, but he knows that his family is looking at him. For now, at least. Now that they’re still frayed nerves and the knowledge of having him and his knife nearby is still soothing.

Soon, they won’t need him. Tomorrow Glenn and Maggie will sit at that table and hand out jobs. They will shake hands and laugh and charm, the perfect couple; loyal, fierce and likeable. The town will grow to love them soon enough. And they will love the town in return.

He prays they will, at least. It would mean that he would get to slip back in his shadows. That he will get to lean against the wall, hands tucked under his armpits and occasionally speak up when something bothered him, like he’d done at the council back at the prison. But it would also mean that he would get to disappear. Dissolve into his work, his hunts, his own mind. And nobody would be looking at him for anything but a curt nod or little shake of his head at the laid out plans.

With a sigh, he puts a cigarette between his lips. His face lights up for a second when he flips his lighter open.

The curtain behind him is pushed aside by the one on guard duty. Benjamin’s gaze burns on his back as he flexes his shoulders and exhales, smoke curling around him.

 _Seven minutes_ , he imagines the blond saying.

He plucks at his lower lip, casts his gaze down to their lawn, spits on the grass. ‘Stop,’ he tells himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support! It means a lot to me.


	5. Cookie run

 

* * *

 

 

The following night, there’s a welcome party at Davis’ house.

Daryl is standing on their porch, one hip against the banister and hands tucked into his armpits as he watches warily how couples make their way over to the large house next to the pantry. Wisps of excited chatter float past him. Women carrying plates filled with snacks while men try to sneak an early taste. Playful scuffles over candy, beer and soft drinks. Some catch sight of him even though the shadows hide him well.

‘Hey, Daryl!’ A man he hasn’t met greets with a wide smile, ‘y’all comin’ to the party?’

Daryl lets his nails dig into the soft skin under his arms, grits his teeth, ‘sure.’

A woman beams at him, ‘don’t wait too long now! You don’t want to miss it!’

He does, of course, but he bites his tongue and doesn’t say anything. Keen eyes watch them amble over to the party.

Inside, his family is getting ready to attend the party. Glenn and Maggie had insisted everyone should go. While it hadn’t taken much, if anything, to convince Benjamin and Carol, they had had a tougher time with Noah, Abraham and himself. They’d pleaded, told him that Davis had been asking about him, that it would be good for them to ingrate a bit more, show their softer sides and allow people to get to know them.

In the end, he’d agreed only because he figured that’s what Rick would have done.

The door behind him opens and Benjamin bursts out, jumps down over the banister with a smooth move and excited laugh. Noah is hot on his heels.

‘Give it back, you asshole,’ the younger boy shouts as he runs, as best as he can, down the stairs and onto the lawn. ‘Give it back! She gave it to _me_!’

‘And now I have it,’ Benjamin leers, hands behind his back as he takes a cautious step backwards. ‘What are you going to do about it, huh?’

‘I’ll fucking show you what I’ll do about it,’ Noah growls as he lunges forward, ‘ _give it back_!’

‘I’m not scared of your shouting,’ the blond tells him as he dances away, stepping out of Noah’s reach easily. ‘Why, oh, look at this, look what I found!’ He opens his hand, shows it to the teenager. 'Could that possibly be one of Carol’s chocolate chip cookies? I think it really might be.’

‘It’s mine, is what it is!’

‘But it’s in my hand,’ Benjamin points out. Daryl looks on from his spot on the porch. He can’t help but smirk at what a little shit the blond man is being. ‘But I’m not mean, Noah, no no. You can earn this cookie.’

Noah huffs. ‘She already gave it to me, you fucker. It’s mine, you already had one!’

‘And I’m going to have loads more at the party,’ Benjamin nods. ‘I’ll give you this one, for a price.’

‘What price,’ Noah asks as he folds his arms in front of his chest. Dark eyes watch the blond suspiciously.

‘That you come to the party with me and Tara. Come on, man,’ Benjamin’s tone changes, from teasing to soft and coaxing. ‘I know it makes you uncomfortable, hell, it makes _all_ of us uncomfortable, but that’s why we need you there. You’ll be with family.’ Benjamin steps closer and puts a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. ‘We’ll be right there with you. We’ll have a beer, snag a cookie, show our face and then just leave, man. In and out, no problem.’

‘You make it sound like a run.’

‘A cookie run, then,’ Benjamin grins and holds the cookie up between them. ‘Besides, I can’t go to a party without a wingman.’

Noah gives him a hesitant smile. ‘Fine,’ he grabs the cookie and stuffs it in his mouth.

‘Go get Tara,’ Benjamin tells him with a playful shove to his shoulder. ‘I’ll wait out here for you guys.’

The teenager limps away. He nods at Daryl before ducking back into the house.

Benjamin just stares at the porch. He doesn’t look up to where Daryl is standing. He doesn’t say anything, just pushes his hands into the pockets of his low-riding jeans. They listen to the sounds coming from inside, Tara’s biting words and Glenn’s soothing tones mixing with Carl’s sulking and Carol’s cheerful chippering.

Daryl watches his friend. The blond hair is styled with some kind of gel which makes it look wet and the top buttons of his shirt aren’t done up. He can see the silver of his dog tags running along his neck, down towards his chest. The jeans he’s wearing are blue, a darker washing then the pair he had on yesterday. The hems are pushed into the combat boots. He still wears the holster of his gun on his belt. A habit, Daryl thinks. He wonders how much it had hurt the other man to leave his sister’s gun behind at the gates.

He doesn’t ask.

 Benjamin tilts his head back, rolling his shoulders a bit before sighing. He slumps back into his normal posture. Green eyes flicker up at Daryl. Pale lips quirk up into a smile. ‘Tried Carol’s cookies yet, or do you really hate sweet things? Heard you’d given the chocolate to Carl.’

‘Not yet. Kid had earned a bit of a treat.’

Benjamin looks away, squaring his shoulder, ‘I’d already given him mine, too. He’s holding on to your piece so he can give it to Michonne as a welcome back present tomorrow.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Sharin’ is carin’, right?’

‘Yeah.’ Benjamin kicks one foot with the other. ‘See you at the party? Maybe we can be all high school dance party and slow dance awkwardly, hmm? ’

Daryl narrows his eyes.

‘Right,’ the blond nods after a beat of silence. ‘Fine. I just…’ He looks up again. ‘You’re doing great, you know? Leading us here, holding it all together. I know you’re hating every second of it, of people looking at you, but… you’re doing good. I want you to know that. We appreciate it.’

Daryl tilts his chin higher and holds his tongue.

After a couple of tense moments the door opens again and his family starts to pour out. Tara, who pretends to be excited, drags Noah forward by his hand. Maggie and Glenn, who herd Carl forward while the Korean has Judith on his hip. And Abraham, who looks far too angry and defiant. Gabriel, who just looks lost.

They troop down the set of stairs.

‘Carol is just locking up,’ Glenn tells the hunter. ‘We’ll meet you there, all right?’

Daryl nods. He watches them leave. They turn into shadows before his eyes, dark figures against the sharp backdrop of the white houses. It soothes his nerves that he catches small glints within the group; moments when artificial light bounces off their barely hidden knives.

Several minutes later Carol steps out onto the porch and closes the door behind her. She smiles at him. ‘Ready, Pookie?’

With a grunt, he tears himself away from the banister. Stomps down the steps. On the lawn, he pushes his hair out of his face, straightens his shirt a bit.

‘You look great,’ she tells him.

‘Whatever. Let’s just get this over with. The fuck are they hostin’ a damn party for anyway? Stupid cunts. Thought they were so fuckin’ worried with their solar power shit, recycle garbage, what do they go around burnin’ lights for? All that food? _Rations_ ,’ he spits the word out and scoffs, ‘my ass. Waste of time.’

She gives him a fond look.

‘What?’ he snaps. ‘What’re you smirkin’ for? Ya’re no better. All fuckin’ excited for this dumb shit, all gussied up, bakin’ fuckin’ cookies like anyone actually gives a damn about what they’re stuffin’ their faces with. What’re we gonna do, huh? Be all polite all of a sudden? Introduce ourselves to the damn community, hell, they’re all talkin’ behind our backs and you know it!’ He points a finger in her face, ‘don’t think I don’t know what they’re sayin’, bunch of fuckin’ asswipes with their kindergarten bullshit. They’re not going to share nothin’. We’ll pay for it, one way or another, just you watch, lady.’

She reaches out and slips her hand in his. 'We'll be okay.' She squeezes his hand tightly, holding on. 'We'll be all right.'

He scoffs but doesn't pull his hand away. He lets it swing between them. A last glance at their house, now dark and ominous. He misses the comforting weight of his crossbow and squeezes her hand.

 

 

Davis and Raeanne's house is lit up with Christmas lights. It seems to glow at the end of the street. The strings wrap around their porch, the windows, even parts of the roof and down the garden path. Through the windows, Daryl can see people milling about inside the house. It's already crowded. They might be the last guests to turn up.

As they walk down the path together, Carol conjures a smile onto her face. The grip on his hand slackens a bit into something more relaxed, just two people taking a stroll through a garden, not two people holding on for dear life as they are led to their guillotines.

The boards of the porch creak when they step up. Daryl sighs heavily before raising his hand and bringing his fist down on the door.

It opens almost immediately.

'Daryl! Carol! Welcome, come on in, I'm so glad you guys are here.' Raeanne beams at them and holds the door open.

'Hi,' Carol steps in first. 'Sorry if we're late.'

'No, no, not at all,' the woman says. 'Everyone is just dying to meet you, I'm afraid I can't keep them away any longer. Of course, Judith already stole the show. She's adorable.'

'She is,' Carol nods.

'Come in, Daryl,' Raeanne smiles as she sees him linger on the doorstep. 'We've got a cold drink waiting for you.'

He ducks his head and steps over the threshold.

 

The party is unnerving in too many ways. It's not like any of the parties he'd been to when he was younger, for starters. He supposes that is somewhat of an improvement. There are no people shooting up in the bathrooms, no syringes to watch out for, no dirty needles on the floors. The people here aren't wasted, or throwing up in the corner of the room, or fucking in the kitchen. Instead, they're standing around in small groups, engulfed in the quiet murmur that grows into a loud buzzing by accumulation. A couple of kids run between them, chasing each other until a grown up grabs them by their shoulders and tells them to take it outside if they want to run. There's no smack to punctuate the words.

Raeanne leads them in, tells them that the drinks are in the kitchen, that they're free to take whatever they want, because sharing is caring, and then she disappears into the crowd to tell Davis that they have arrived.

A couple of women greet Carol with warm smiles and compliments about the cookies Tara brought. Their eyes flicker to Daryl hesitantly. Carol introduces him. He forgets their names.

The conversation isn't about the latest crack whore, that shipment going bad, or who runs the show now that that guy from Fifth has been gunned down. Instead they talk about their families, their homes, what they had for dinner, like the world hasn't gone to shit around them. It makes Daryl sick to his stomach.

Carol lets go of his hand and he takes it as his cue. He mutters something and the women excuse him.

He finds Glenn and Maggie on the couch, bouncing Judith while Carl sulks in the corner, all dark eyes which remind Daryl too much of Rick on the bad days. Steel blue eyes and a hidden blade.

Abraham is drinking himself under the table in another corner.

Noah and Tara are out in the hallway, a sulking mess by the looks of it. Noah looks scared, all wide eyes and shaking hands, but the girl talks to him, coaxing him to go and sit with Glenn and Maggie. She'll even get him a drink, she leers, but he pushes himself off the stairs and towards the door.

Daryl is there to grab his arm, yanking him close. 'Ya ain't leavin',' he tells the boy. 'Hell, they made us all come down here to this damn party, so ya best stick with your kin, all right?'

Noah looks at him, eyes wide but he drops his chin in a nod, 'yeah, okay...'

'Good,' he lets go, 'Carl looked like he could use some company.'

'All right.'

Tara runs her hands over her face when Noah slinks back into the living room. Her shoulders curl inwards for a second. Then she stands, brushes her dark hair out of her face and flashes him a watery smile. 'Thanks.'

'Ain't nothin',' he mumbles. 'You all right?'

'This is horrible,' she tells him with a significant look. 'If someone is going to ask me what my favorite dish is, I'm going to scream, okay? Someone keeps yammering about what kind of baking tins she prefers. Told her I once killed a walker by smashing his head into the oven. Closest thing I've come to baking anything in the last ten years. She nearly threw up on me. I might have been too graphic with the details.'

He smirks, 'that's my girl.'

She grins back at him, 'you know it, Dixon.'  She curls her right hand into a fist and holds it up for him to bump, ‘come on, man, don’t leave me hanging.’

He scoffs but knocks their fists together.

There's a new spring in her step when she rejoins the party.

On his way to the kitchen, he spots Benjamin. The blond is standing in the middle of a room, hands flailing as he uses them to emphasize his words. Those thin lips in a crooked smile, mischief in his eyes as the men and women around him all lean in to hear the story. A ripple of laughter goes through the room. Like the eye of the storm, Daryl thinks as he pushes past a couple blocking his way. It’s hardly surprising that the people flock to meet him.

‘Daryl!’ He is jerked out of his thought by Davis, who is leaning against the kitchen counter. ‘Welcome to the first bar in Genesis, what can I get you? Beer? Something stronger?’

‘Beer’s fine.’

‘A cold one coming up,’ Davis nods. He grabs two beers from his fridge and slaps one in the palm of Daryl's hand. The hunter takes his lighter out of his pocket and cracks them open with a practiced move. They clinks them together before taking a large gulp. He closes his eyes for a moment.

'First one in how long?'

'Ice cold? Was nursing one when it all went tits up,' Daryl says as he observes the people in the living room. This is a good vantage point, he decides. He can see everyone from here, no one is able to sneak up behind them. All exits are covered. 'Okay if I jump up here?' He taps the counter.

'Sure,' Davis nods, 'but watch the boots. Xander keeps fucking up the paintjob on the cupboards with his, drives Rae crazy.'

He snorts, 'all right,' before climbing up on the countertop. He lets his feet dangle down.

Davis slides on next to him. 'Anyway, that's a long time to go between beers, man. You fucking earned it.'

Daryl takes a big gulp, ''s good. We ran into a guy once, at the beginning, though he had the place locked up good. Electricity, hot water, thick walls, had everything, man. Threw a party, he had a good stash of wine. Not that cheap sweet stuff neither. Got shitfaced drunk.'

Davis grins around his beer bottle, 'what happened?'

'Got a headache from hell. Threw up all my guts and then some.'

'To the place, I mean,' Davis specifies after a sympathetic wince, 'what made you leave?'

'Went to shit. Wasn't what we thought it was. Wasn't anything in the end. Just some walls and one son of a bitch who almost got us all killed. Took some of us with him,' he scratches at the label of his beer with blunt fingernails. 'They wanted to though. Stayed with him while everything got blown to bits.'

'He blew himself up?'

'Something like that,' Daryl says. The dark bangs hide his expression. He stares at the table in front of him. People move past him to get to the fridge. They stop to greet Davis, greet him, but move on when their leader gives them a gentle nudge and small shake of his head.

‘We, Rae and I, we found this place early on,’ Davis says. ‘Xander used to live in this little place nearby, we were down here to visit him for a couple of days. When we left home things weren’t that bad, you know? I think we were on one of the last commercial flights. When we landed, it was pretty bad. Gone ugly overnight it seemed. We thought maybe they wanted to keep it down in the big cities, you know, stop the panic, but it went bad in the country side too. Xander took us in, but even that one horse town got overrun. Still don't know where they all came from. We packed up and ran. We were so stupid,' he shakes his head. 'We were half a tank away before we realized that everything had gone to shit, you know, hadn't packed anything but our clothes. We were heading for one of those supposed safe zones. It had already fallen by the time we got there. But they had fences. And Xander knew about this community being built. Added things up, made some tough calls, and here we are.' He raises his bottle, half-empty now, at the crowd in his living room. 'Back to civilization. World keeps on turning. Life as one fucking circle.'

Daryl grunts. 'Guess.' He glances up to see Noah hanging out with Carl in a corner. A little girl has joined them. It almost makes Daryl laugh how uncomfortable the two teenagers seem. Frightened by a five year old with pigtails and a running mouth.

'They're doing great,' Davis says. He bumps their shoulders together. 'I'd expected some plates being smashed, some yelling maybe. Hell,' he takes a swing of his beer, 'wasn't even sure you'd all turn up.'

'Me neither,' Daryl admits.

Laughter explodes in the living room. A familiar voice pipes up, low but not rumbling. He catches glimpses of Tara who looks surprised by the loud noise, a hesitant smile on her face, and seconds later, Benjamin's arm around her waist, those smirking lips kissing her temple before a quick comment has her shoving him away. Their audience bursts out laughing again. Tara blushes.

'Well,' Davis grins, 'I knew _one_ of you would turn up at least. That guy is something else.'

Daryl glances at the leader of the community.

'If I weren't married, I'd lock Raeanne away. Hell, I still might. She won't stop talking about that guy.' He rolls his eyes and continues in a high tone, _'Ben stopped by to thank us for the house, I saw Ben at James' this morning and he told me this funny story, Ben was at Xander's place this afternoon, did you know Ben has a sweet tooth_?' He laughs, 'like I fucking care about some guy's sweet tooth. The girls seem to love him. He's with that Tara girl, though, right?'

Daryl shrugs. 'Last I heard. He's good people.'

'Oh, I'm sure he is. It's amazing, really, how he can still be like that after all you went through. I mean, I can see it in all of you; _stranger danger complex_ , Raeanne calls it. And I get it, of course I do. That hell you went through, part of it was made by other people, you said so yourself. I guess it's good to have someone like him in the group, right?'

Daryl hums. 'Comic relief, he calls it.'

'I can see that,' Davis nods.

'He's not just that, though,' Daryl finds himself saying. 'Got good aim too. Muscle. I mean, the girls are tough as nails but, you know.'

Raeanne breezes into the kitchen, 'there's my man,' she kisses Davis before eyeing their empty beer bottles. 'One more?'

'Sure, babe, thanks.'

‘Daryl?’

'Yes, ma'am.'

Raeanne grabs them both a bottle. 'A Southern gentleman,' she takes another bottle out for herself. 'I'll toast to that.'

Daryl clinks their bottles together.

'Talkin’ about family and comic relief; where's that little shit of mine,' Davis asks as he leans forward to look down the hallway.

'Last time I saw Xan he was with Gabriel in the backyard.'

'They're not talking work, right? This is supposed to be a party!' Davis takes a big gulp and then aims a kick at Daryl's booted foot to get his attention. 'Hey, you happy about the jobs we've assigned? I mean, Glenn and Maggie seemed keen but they told me they needed to run it by you first before making everything official.'

'Looked all right, I guess.'

Davis looks at Raeanne and then back at the hunter. 'Well, fucking perfect, then, _I guess_.'

Daryl flips him off.

Davis bursts out laughing and his wife rolls her eyes at them before walking away to find her girlfriends.

The list of jobs and names is tucked into his back pocket. He'd studied it all afternoon, trying to decide whether it would all work out while knowing that Maggie and Glenn would always play to all their strengths. The list had been perfect, of course. The only odd one out was Carol, who'd _community service_ scribbled next to her name. He wanted to rip the page in two when he saw, but knows what game she plays. He lets her, only because he has no choice in the matter.

The rest of the group had different titles next to their names _. Runners, builders, farmers, guards_. Maggie's elegant handwriting spelling out _hunter_ next to his name.

Apparently Gabriel got to reopen the church.

Carl's name had been struck from the list by Davis. Apparently kids had to be kids in this new society. He could do chores in their home, help out a couple of hours in the greenhouses but nothing more. They thought he was too old to join the other kids at school but would find him a private teacher soon, Raeanne had promised.

The tantrum that had followed when Glenn broke the news to Carl had been truly spectacular.

Daryl smirks at the memory. He leans back against the wall and listens to the white noise of the party. Davis is now talking to some guy that came to get some water, their voices light and friendly. The leader is still turned to the hunter, leaving him the option to join in the conversation. He doesn’t. Instead he watches and learns and hopes that that is what Rick would have done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment with your thoughts!  
> Thanks loads!


	6. The dog's friends

 

* * *

 

 

It’s dark out when the party is halted for a couple of minutes. Parents call out for their kids, the husbands lifting them to their hips while the wives thank their hosts for the lovely party. There’s a flutter of goodbyes in the hallways, people kissing each other’s cheeks on their way home.

Xander, Davis’ younger brother, and a friend stomp into the living room. They carry a heavy looking crate between them. Glass chimes. ‘Look what we found, people,’ the younger man grins. ‘Now that the kids are going to bed, it’s time to break out the good stuff, huh?’ He pulls out a jar. The liquid is clear as water. ‘Got us some homebrew!’

The guys of his runner’s crew cheer loudly, stomping their feet on the ground.

From the corner of his eye, Daryl can see how Carl is talking to Benjamin, their heads bend close together, brown hair mixing with blond as they whisper in each other’s ear. The green eyes are narrowed as he tries to understand the kid but eventually he leans back and nods.

Carl looks relieved. The blue eyes dart around before he spots Daryl. It doesn’t take him long to make his way over, slipping through the small groups of people and side-stepping the action that is going on in the middle of the living room.

‘Is it all right if me and Noah bail on you guys now?’ Carl asks as soon as he’s by Daryl’s side. ‘We need to get Judith home.’

The excuse is pathetic because Tara is sitting on the staircase, Judith bundled up in a warm blanket and away from all the noise and people. She sings to the girl under her breath, whispered words of comfort for the both of them and anyone who pads past on their way to the bathroom.

But he can see how Benjamin talks to Noah now, on the other side of the room. How the blond has to duck his head down to get the teenager’s attention, how the dark eyes are hollow and the gaze distant.

‘Sure, punk,’ Daryl says. ‘Fuck off out of here.’

Carl grins and goes to get his sister and Noah.

It doesn’t take long before the bottles are passed around. Someone presses one into Daryl’s hands, the glass cold on his skin. Xander grins at him, raising his own jar in a silent salute, before he hands one to Abraham too. The redhead already had too much to drink. He’s swaying a little, ignores Tara’s coaxing words and cracks a jar open, taking a big gulp just to show that he can.

Daryl watches him silently. He sips his moonshine, lets it burn his mouth and rush down to his belly, warm and just foul-tasting enough to remind him of his old man.

Music suddenly starts up.

Davis, who is still sitting beside Daryl, groans. He looks at the hunter. ‘It’s gonna be one of those damn high school parties in a minute. Sure you don’t wanna bail too?’

‘Nah,’ Daryl watches how Abraham laughs with Xander. ‘Best keep an eye on him.’

‘I can do that,’ Davis offers easily. ‘Got enough muscle with Xan and his crew, should things go south with him. He can sleep it off on one of our couches, we’ll bring him home tomorrow morning, hangover and all.’

‘He’s one of mine.’

Davis nods his understanding. ‘Of course. Anyway, at least the booze is better than it was at high school, huh?’

‘Guess,’ Daryl says even though he can’t remember getting drunk on anything but his daddy’s moonshine. He might not have attended high school parties, but he had woken up with his face in the dirt beside their cabin, drenched in moonshine and his own puke, his belt unbuckled and pants down while he couldn’t remember whether he’d tried to pee out here or fuck a girl. He remembers climbing over some girls, some guys, Merle passed out on the couch, to grab his backpack for school, only leaving on days he had to work in the car shop or on Wednesday afternoons when his art class was scheduled.

It feel strange to listen to music again. The tunes so familiar yet foreign in his ears. People slowly start to sway to the beat, girlfriends grinning at boyfriends, husband’s hands on their wife’s hips, friends twirling their best friends on the spot. The couch is pushed aside. The coffee table put on its side to make room.

The girl from the pantry dances with one of the runners. They’re the first to stumble onto the dance floor, all giggles and jokes shared between them. He laughs into her blond hair, she swats at his biceps, but they still sway together in harmony.

One of the other runners finds a married woman, elderly, all wise eyes and wrinkled skin, and leads her onto the dancefloor. She puts her head on his chest, he rests his chin on top of her gray hair. Every once a while he kisses the top of her head. They have the same brown eyes. He doesn’t need Davis’ murmur ‘that’s his momma’, to know. Just like he doesn’t need the two rings on her finger to know that her husband has died.

There’s nothing surprising about the fact that, a couple minutes later and under the loud cheers and leers from the runners, Benjamin leads Tara onto the dance floor. There’s not a trace of awkwardness between them as Benjamin laces the fingers of his right hand together with her left, pulls her close to his body, lets her curl an arm around his neck. Lean fingers in the nape of his neck, matching smiles on their faces as they let the beat of the song rock through their bodies. Noses close, almost touching, hands on strong shoulders and slim hips.

They’re the most beautiful couple on the dancefloor. All natural elegance, smooth curves and easy smiles.

Daryl wonders whether that is what everyone else is seeing. Probably. No one here has ever seen Tara go head to head with a walker before after all; the way her gun fits in the palm of those small hands, how her arm twists when she pushes a knife in, or the sheer force of her knuckles crushing a skull. No one has seen her go head to head with Abraham either, those cute features fading into something far more sinister and determined, death on her tongue and in her eyes. How her words and looks alone can make a grown man bleed.

They might think that Benjamin is all smiles and jokes too, soft touches and charm. He scoffs at that. Hell, they’ve never seen him covered in blood and grime, pushing rotting bodies away from them while flashing his knife, or the way he grabbed a walker’s throat and blew the brains out right before his eyes before walking on, whistling to himself like nothing had happened. They’ve never seen those muscles bulge beneath his clothing, or how he can haul Michonne on top of a fence with a soft grunt and not a sweat on his brow. They’ve never seen him _hunt_. All silent movements and eyes the color of the forest and his footsteps fitting the tracks left by hunter’s boots.

It’s hard to imagine, even for him, even though it has only been days since there was blood on Benjamin’s hands, knife dripping wet, and his lips firmly on Daryl’s.

This isn’t real, Daryl wants to tell them. He’s not like this. He’s darker and stronger and far more dangerous than all y’all think. He’s like a viper, patient and unassuming until he strikes from where he’s hidden in the grass. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

‘Right.’ Davis stretches and hops down from the counter. ‘I think I’ll best go find that beautiful wife of mine, ask her for a dance, or I’ll be sleeping in the guestroom tonight.’

Daryl nods and hops down too.

‘You’re going to give Carol a spin then?’

Daryl snorts, ‘hell no. Going out for a smoke.’

‘Right. Hey. It was nice talking to you, man.’

The hunter gives him a fleeting look and shoulders past some people to reach the backdoor. ‘Whatever,’ he mumbles before escaping into the cool evening night.

The fairy lights cast a strange glow over the well-maintained garden. There’s a low wall of stones, wrapping around a terrace with barbeque and a long table with six chairs. He sits down on the wall and lights a cigarette.

From here, he can see a couple of the runners in the living room. They’re sitting on the couch. Xander is sitting in the middle, like a king on his fucking throne, all youthful smugness when surrounded by his friends.

The crew consists of a couple of young men and only one woman. She is sitting on the back of the couch, feet planted on the couch cushions, one of the man leans back against her, head on her tight and hand wrapped around an ankle. She has black hair which is unevenly cut, like so many hairdo’s nowadays. She’s skinny with prominent cheekbones which even give Daryl the urge to feed her some of Carol’s cookies. With her dark jeans and long-sleeves dark sweater, she’s nothing but a shadow between the boisterous men.

It surprises him to see Gabriel sitting near them. A chair pulled up to the couch, his back straight and eyes on the people dancing nearby. Daryl takes a drag. Probably damning them all to hell, he thinks as he breathes the smoke out and lifts the jar with moonshine to his lips.

Xander gets up and walks away. Probably off to dance with someone.

The music is vague now that he is outside. It hadn’t been his kind of music before all hell had broken loose, but it seems to serve its purpose now. Cheerful beats and a woman’s voice parroting empty lyrics no one bothers to listen to. It’s easy to forget, with this kind of white noise in your ears.

He wonders whether Rick would have enjoyed himself at the party. Probably just as much as he does, only the former cop would have been better at pretending. He would have had Judith on his hip, Carl at his right hand. Maybe Daryl wouldn’t have had to show up at all, if the cop had been here.

Maybe he could have walked the wall instead. Or he could have taken a guard-shift in the watchtower. He would have felt more useful in either cases.

 He’s almost smoking plastic again when there’s a crash from inside the living room. Raised voices, shattering glass.

The door slams open, Carol, with wide eyes and a hand on her knife, ‘it’s Abe!’

He’s inside before he even realizes that he had gotten to his feet. The jar with moonshine smashes on the tiles outside but he can’t be sorry. Instead he pushes people out of his way, shoving them roughly up against walls to create a path.

Abraham is screaming something incoherent. He has a guy pinned to the wall. The knife forgotten on his belt, muscles bulging in a drunken rage as the guy scrambles to find some support. He’s lifted clear off the ground. Boots scraping against the wall, gasping for breath and eyes filled with fear.

Tara is tugging at Abraham’s arm. He swats at her like she’s an annoying fly.

Maggie is shouting at them.

Glenn stands nearby, arms folded over his chest and a shuttered look on his face. Davis is pulling at his shoulder, urging him to do something. The Korean works his jaw for a second.

Daryl burst through, gets low and tackles Abraham to the floor.

It’s momentum that wins over those strong muscles. That, and surprise. Abraham curses, flails as he lands hard on his side. The hunter is quick, used to working against Merle’s overpowering force and Rick’s training. His full body weight on the chest, the heel of his boot digging into a muscle in Abraham’s thigh, nails digging into shoulders to push them into the floor.

Abraham snarls and grunts.

Glenn steps forward and plants his foot on Abraham’s left wrist, stopping the hand from reaching for a knife. ‘We got it,’ he tells Davis.

Daryl lets his shoulder roll back, his arm tensing until his knuckles connect with Abraham’s cheek. Right there, right where it will bruise but not break anything.

It silences Abraham. His head thuds back against the floorboards, dazed, but the anger slowly drains from his frame. He groans a bit as Daryl moves back to lean on his own feet instead of his friend’s chest.

‘Ya with me, man?’

Abraham huffs out a breath of laughter. He shakes his head, ‘they don’t understand. They think – they don’t understand what it takes. What we did – what we _had_ to do, it’s – They don’t understand what it takes to survive.’

‘No, they don’t,’ Daryl agrees.

‘They lost a _dog_ ,’ Abraham laughs, his anger being twisted by moonshine and nerves into something hysterical. ‘They were talking about holding a service for a damn dog they lost. I thought they were talking about a guy, man. Jesus Christ. It died of old age, Daryl. _The dog died of old age_!’

The man beneath him shakes with laughter. Daryl looks down at him. ‘Did ya tell them we probably ate its doggy friends?’

That sets Abraham off in another laughing fit. He slams his open hand down on the floor, laughter deep and twisted.

There are shocked murmurs behind him. When he glances over his shoulder, the women back away a few steps while the men look nauseous. Carol hides a wry smile behind a hand, pretending to be frozen in shock.

‘We ate its damn friends,’ Abraham laughs. ‘And they tasted _good_.’

‘C’mon,’ Daryl smirks as he taps Abraham’s uninjured cheek, much like Rick always does to him when he begins to lose his mind. ‘Ya gonna let Glenn drag your drunk ass home?’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Abraham corrects with a slur.

‘Sure ya ain’t,’ Daryl laughs as he climbs to his own feet and then moves to haul his brother up. He steadies him easily.

The front door burst open and Benjamin stalks in. Daryl frowns, hadn’t even noticed that the blond hadn’t been in the room during the little scene. They stare at each other for a second. Benjamin’s cheeks are flushed, his mouth just a thin line as his lips are pressed together in anger. It only lasts for a second, the blink of an eye, and then he’s all relaxed shoulders and big, green eyes again, but Daryl’s always been observant.

Carol tucks the younger man closer, whispering in his ear.

Daryl hands Abraham to Glenn, ‘y’all head home now.’ Then he turns to the man Abraham had assaulted. He tilts his chin high. ‘Ya all right?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the man says quickly, gaze darting away. ‘I’m fine.’

‘That’s right,’ Daryl says softly, careful to keep his voice low and calm. ‘Weren’t nothin’, huh?’

The man glances at Davis. ‘No, no, I’m sure I just – I mean – I probably said something stupid, I’m really sorry.’

‘Nah, it’s all good,’ Daryl nods as Glenn drags Abraham out of the room. ‘I’m sure ya didn’t mean nothin’ by it, man.’ He holds out an arm and Carol slinks over, curling into his side. ‘Think we best get goin’ though. Don’t want the kids to stay home alone for too long now. Y’all understand, of course.’

‘We do,’ Raeanne chimes in, smiling warmly at him. ‘Thank you for coming. We’re breaking the party up now anyway. It’s getting late.’

Daryl ducks his head and Carol beams at her. ‘Thank you for everything. We had a great time.’

Maggie steps forward, ‘Benjamin and I will stay behind, help you all clean up, won’t we, Ben?’

The blond looks at her for a second and then nods, ‘of course, yeah, least we can do.’

‘You really don’t have to,’ Raeanne says.

‘We didn’t bring anything over to share,’ Maggie tells her, ‘so this is how we’ll make up, okay?’

‘Just let them help out a bit,’ Carol coaxes. ‘Let them do the dishes, Ben can move the furniture back, it’ll be all cleared up in no time.’

Davis laughs, ‘all right, all right. Thank you, really. Don’t be strangers, okay? Don’t let two years go by without another cold beer, Daryl. I’ve got plenty to share.’

It takes Carol a couple of minutes to say goodbye to everyone. Tara waits in the hallway, face drawn and teeth clenched together. Daryl leans against the wall next to her. Their eyes meet. Mutual disgust at the whole situation almost makes her crack a smile.

‘Manipulative asshole.’ She laughs, ‘that guy almost shat himself.’

‘Didn’t do nothin’,’ Daryl drawls at her. ‘Was all him. Maybe Abe.’ He plucks at his lower lip to hide his own grin. ‘Where’d Ben fucked off to anyway? Could have fucking helped before it all went tits up.’

‘Happened fast,’ Tara tells him with a shake of her head. ‘One second it was all fine, well not fine, but we were talking so I guess it went all right. Next thing I know,’ she snaps her fingers, ‘it was about a dog and Abe went crazy and…’ she sighs and closes her eyes, ‘I don’t know. Ben was out in the front with Xander. Something about the jobs they had or something, I don’t know, I couldn’t really hear over the music, he just told me he’d slip out for a couple of minutes.’ She opens her eyes to look at Daryl. ‘They fucking love him. And Carol, too. It’s sickening.’

Daryl grunts, ‘tell me about it.’

‘They want Carol to join this dinner club. The neighbors all cooking for each other in turn, right? So they don’t have to cook every night, takes some weight off their shoulders, you know, because they’re all so busy with their gardens and organizing their damn rations or whatever. I don’t know what these people do all day, every day. Count their chocolate. Iron their sheets. Feed their dogs so they can die of old age.’

Daryl snorts.

‘Eugene is going to love it here,’ Tara laughs. ‘A whole town filled with cowards. He’ll fit right in. Jesus Christ.’

‘The Lord’s name.’

They both look over to see Gabriel standing there.

Tara huffs, ‘He stopped caring a long time ago, Father. Get used to it.’ She pushes herself away from the wall when Carol steps into the hallway too. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

They troop out. The young woman stalking home while the Father trails after her. Daryl and Carol behind them, shoulders bumping together as they walk.

‘See?’ she asks him with a wry smile, ‘everything turned out all right.’

He lights a cigarette, ‘was like herdin’ cats.’

She laughs and nods, ‘I hope Maggie and Ben can scrape us back into their good graces. But you handled it good.’

‘Was no handlin’ of that shit pile,’ Daryl grunts. ‘Just made sure he didn’t go ape-shit on that guy, is all. If Rick had been there, none of that would’ve even ha-‘

‘Don’t,’ Carol cuts in, giving him a sharp look. ‘He isn’t here. You are. _We_ are. And we’re doing good by him.’

The hunter just smokes his cigarette. The look he gives her ends the conversation. ‘I’m going to walk the perimeter,’ he says when they reach the house.

Carol smiles. ‘You’re going to walk around the house until you finish your smoke. You’re going to walk through our _yard_ ; there’s no perimeter. Nobody has to be on watch.’ She narrows her eyes when he opens his mouth to say something. ‘No. We’re going to try, Daryl. Really try, that means that we’re going to sleep in our own beds tonight. All of us.’

Daryl’s eyes flicker over to the house next to theirs.

‘No,’ Carol tells him, ‘there’s enough room for all of us in this house, for now. We’ll split up tomorrow, when Michonne and Eugene come home. Judith sleeps in my room, Tara and Carl dragged the crib upstairs this morning. Carl made the arrangements, so you have to take it up with him if you don’t like your room for tonight. It’s the one at the top of the stairs.’

‘The guest room.’

‘Yeah. It has a single bed. He figured you wouldn’t want to bunk with anyone tonight.’

He nods. ‘Smart kid.’

‘Yeah. He gave himself the master bedroom though.’

Daryl laughs, ‘little shit.’

Carol grins, ‘let him have his fun for the night. We’ll flip for it tomorrow. And at least he’s sharing it with Noah.’

 

 

It feels strange to get ready for bed. Out on the road, and even in the library, he’d slept with his jeans on, his boots, his knife digging into his hip whenever he turned in his sleep. Now, he closes the door, the blinds and shuts the light off.

The house is silent. He sits on the edge of the bed, so soft it dips due to his weight.

He removes one of his boots. Stops to listen. Then removes the other one.

His breathing is too quick, heart beating and stuttering in his veins as he removes his socks. Unbuttons his shirt with shaking fingers.

He sits like that for a couple of minutes. His shirt hanging open, hands shaking while he stares at the door handle. A part of him expects it to move, someone sneaking into his room, the glint of a knife in the dark, while the other part still expects nails to scrape down the wood and the air to fill with undead growls and snarls.

But there’s nothing. It has been minutes since he’d heard the springs of Abraham’s bed groan under his weight. All is quiet.

So he slaps himself mentally. Imagines Merle sitting next to him with that lopsided grin of his, a cut-off hand and jibes about how he’s being a pussy about the whole thing.

He puts his knife under his pillow and stands up. Throws his shirt into a corner and unbuckles his belt, letting the jeans fall into a puddle before he climbs into the bed, beneath the soft blankets.

He sighs as he folds an arm under his head and bites on his thumb. Last time he’d had a bed this good, he’d lost Beth the next day.

He doesn’t want to think about that now.

So instead, he turns to his side and closes his eyes.

 

They snap open again an hour later. The front door opens, closes, soft footfalls on the staircase. Two pair, male, female. Hushed voices, a soft laugh, hushing.

He sighs, willing his heartrate to slow down again. It’s only Maggie and Benjamin coming home from the party.

He closes his eyes and listen to their routine. It feels strange to listen to those common noises of someone spitting toothpaste into the sink, the water running, a toilet flushing, doors opening and closing while people moving around each other in the tight spaces of bathrooms, hallways and rooms.

The house goes silent again.

His heartrate spikes for a second when the door to his bedroom opens. He keeps his breathing shallow and slow, opens his eyes just so that he can look through his lashes. It’s dark, but he’d recognize Benjamin’s outline anywhere.

The blond closes the door softly. He’d kicked his boots off downstairs, padding around on sock-clad feet, silent for once.

He just stands there for a second. Then he moves to the bed.

Daryl expects a hand to find his hip, his shoulder, his hair, lips on his cheek, his neck, but instead the bed dips near his feet as his friend sits down. When his eyes get used to the darkness, he can make him out; shoulders hunched as he leans on his knees with his elbows, hands in his hair.

Benjamin breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth.

Daryl just watches, careful to keep his body relaxed and breathing even.

Minutes crawl by.

Then Benjamin draws his hands down over his face, rubs at the shadow of a beard on his chin, the back of his neck and then just lets them dangle in between his knees. He’s staring at his own socks.

‘I miss you.’

For a second, Daryl thinks that his friend knows that he’s awake, but Benjamin doesn’t look at him. He leans down to pluck at the hem of his new jeans.

‘You’re right here. _Right here_ , but fuck,’ Benjamin breathes. His voice is barely a whisper. He props his chin up with his left hand. ‘I’m like a fucking drug addict who isn’t getting his fix of gruffness and sarcasm. Jesus Christ. No one is threatening to stomp my ass anymore. I wish they would, though. I talked to a lady this morning and she was explaining to me how difficult it had been to get her flowers to bloom this year. Like, are you fucking kidding me, lady? I wanted to punch her so bad. Just poison her with some Miracle-gro. While she was tending to her damn flowers, I was burying my sister. Fuck your flowers.’ He sighs. ‘But no, I just nodded and ran my mouth about how my mom used to work in our garden too. She didn’t, by the way. My dad maintained the garden. She did love it, protested fiercely whenever he threatened to just dump some concrete in the backyard. Maybe she just liked to order him around, you know, criticize and tease him all day long. _That hedge really isn’t straight, darling, maybe you should_ … Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore.

‘I was talking to her and all I could think was; Fuck, Daryl would shoot an arrow in my ass so fast if he could hear me now. It was such a bullshit conversation.’ He plucks at his fingernails and shrugs a little. ‘They’re nice though. Most of them are really nice. Good people. Good, stupid people.’

He rubs his hands together and shakes his head.

‘Three days,’ he says softly. ‘Jesus.’ The palms of his hands are pushed against his eyes, ‘I’ve been without you for twenty six years. And now three days but you’re right here and it’s still three days without you.’ He stands up. ‘It has no right to hurt this much.’

Slow measured steps towards the door. ‘Maybe, when we’re both out there, beyond the walls, beyond everything, we will find each other. And it’s not even… I don’t care if we never kiss again or… that’s a lie. But it’s not, because, you know, God, if we’d run into each other out there, I’d tell you about why my mom hates gardening, what our old home looked like, what I wanted to be when I was young. And you’d listen and you probably wouldn’t give a shit about any of it but you’d still listen to me.’ He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. ‘But we can’t. Gabriel told… never mind. Fuck, I’m talking too much. You should have woken up to stomp my ass for running my mouth, you know? It’s what you do. Did. Used to do, fuck, whatever. Fuck this.’

The door closes and he’s gone.

Daryl looks up at the ceiling, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the soft bed. His right hand moves down his chest, over his abs, until his fingers touch the first curls of his pubic hair. Then he pushes his nails into his skin and races his hand back up, up, up to his nipple where the sharp nails nick his sensitive skin. Angry red marks on his pale skin.

He breathes hard, through the pain.

The marks turn into welts. He knows they’ll fade in about two days.

But for now, they burn his skin. Tiny stripes, really, but they _hurt_.

They hurt far too much for how small they are.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments always make my day, thank you so much for taking the time to write them!


	7. Drifting and landing hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore you all for leaving such amazing comments, every time! Really, thank you.

 

* * *

 

 

He rises with the sun. The world is already turning gray outside of his window when he gets dressed and lobes down the stairs. The house is still quiet but there’s breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen table. A plate. A gleaming knife and fork. There’s even a roll of fucking kitchen towels to wipe his mouth with when he’s done.

Out of spite, he doesn’t use the cutlery. Just eats with his hands like he’s always done out on the road. The meal isn’t hot anymore, but warmth still lingers in the pieces of meat. The pots and pans are still on the stove, waiting to be reheated for the rest of his family. He’s not even sure whether this is all meant for him. Doesn’t care, really. There’s enough to go around now. They can make themselves another plate.

Soft footfalls alert him to another presence. Maggie comes down the stairs. Her hair is wild, mussed from sleep and her eyes still puffy. She doesn’t say anything, just grabs a plate, takes some food and slides into the seat opposite him. She reaches over and grabs his fork, poking at the food with a tired smile.

‘Did ya make this?’

‘Yes. I woke up an hour ago. Thought I had to get ready for watch duty, but then I remembered.’ She chews on some vegetables, swallows and pushes her meat around. ‘I went down here just to check whether it was all still here. Opened the cupboards and there was all this food, just sitting here. I used to make daddy breakfast, lunch, dinner. So I made this,’ she waves at their plates, his empty, hers still full, ‘just because I could.’

‘’s good.’

‘Thanks. Knew you would wake up early,’ she yawns. ‘Didn’t want you to sneak out without having some. First workday, can’t hunt on an empty stomach, right?’

He shrugs and tips his chair back to balance on two legs. ‘Maybe it’s like getting the damn groceries when ya’re hungry.’

Maggie lifts an amused eyebrow, ‘you’ll bring back the whole forest?’

‘And then some. First time I got high - was with Merle of course, piece of shit - I got these cravings. S’mores, right? Fuck,’ he laughs softly when Maggie’s lips twist into a barely hidden smile, ‘was twelve years old, high as a kite, what’d ya expect? S’mores were the shit. So I dragged my ass down to the store, grabbed a bunch of stuff, crawled back home.’

‘And you stuffed yourself with S’mores?’

‘Nah. I’d bought enough marshmallows to feed Georgia. Forgotten all the rest.’

‘So you just ate marshmallows until you were sick?’

‘Yup.’

Maggie laughs and shakes her head, ‘I don’t even know whether I’m supposed to find that sad, endearing or hilarious.’

Daryl looks out of the windows at the gray world that’s waking up around them. Life begins to creep back into the house. Judith begins to cry upstairs. It starts out soft, barely awake whimpers until it blows into an all-out tantrum when her dad isn’t there to shush her. She quiets a couple of minutes later. Daryl recognizes Carol’s footsteps as she walks the girl around in her bedroom.

Beds creak. Glenn moves to the bathroom, but Tara slips in before him. Benjamin’s voice joins his soft complaints, voice low and rough from sleep.

‘They’re going on their first run today,’ Maggie says while she pushes her food around on her plate. ‘Ben and Glenn.’

His light eyes turn back to her, ‘ain’t their first rodeo.’

‘With the new group, I mean.’

The group of runners mostly consists of young men. Sons of people living down the road, husbands of wives who’d made them dinner at the church. Xander is considered to be their leader, with Harry, a broad and strong fellow, as his second in command.

‘They’ll be fine,’ Maggie continues when Daryl doesn’t say anything. ‘I spoke to a lot of people at that party. Everyone tells me that it’s an efficient crew. Did you know they’ve only lost five people? Their names are on the side of the church. Some were bitten, but others… Runners get to carry a gun. Some just took the job so they could swallow their own bullets. It wasn’t Xander’s fault.’

Daryl watches her.

‘They’ll be fine,’ she repeats. ‘Glenn is…’ she shrugs a little and gives him a hesitant smile. ‘I’m glad Ben will be with him. I know we have to try to make this work, but I’ll feel better knowing that he has Ben as back-up instead of someone we don’t know. ‘ She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘He’s clever. Ben, he’s so clever. And Glenn is the best runner we have. They’ll be fine.’

‘’Course they will.’ He lets his chair fall back onto four legs with a smack, then shifts so he can put his feet up on the table. Heavy boots on scrubbed-down wood.

Maggie smiles at that.

‘What are you going to do?’ Daryl asks her. He takes out his knife, lets the point dig into the side of the table, into the wood, then pulls it out again. Over and over and over.

‘Office work.’ Blue eyes snap up, away from the knife, angry and outraged, a scoff, but Maggie just smiles back. ‘They’re planning to set up a police force. A school. Maybe, in the long run, there will even be an economy. Raeanne asked me to help with the plans.’

Daryl scoffs again. A small puff of air, loaded with significance. That faint grimace on his face, the way his gaze drifts away.

Maggie has seen him do it a million times. The meaning of it changes every time. Sometimes it’s _; you’re an idiot_. Or; _that’s bullshit_. Or; _I don’t care_. Or; _this is ridiculous_. There are a hundred different meanings to that single scoff. Sometimes she still misreads them. He’s not easy to read, even though Carol and Benjamin both disagree with her on that. Like a book, they say, and Benjamin’s smirk will melt into a leer because he _loves_ books.

This time she knows exactly what he means, however.

‘ _I_ think it’s important,’ Maggie says with a little shrugs, ‘to try and rebuild the world, our society. Can you imagine Rick sending Judith off to school? Carl training to be a cop, a doctor, a builder, anything he wants. I think it’s important to try. If this works, then all the better. And if it doesn’t, they won’t expect the knife in their backs to come from a paper pusher, right?’

Daryl lifts his chin higher for a second.

‘It’s a good place,’ Maggie shrugs, ‘but… It feels good. It looks good. But so did Woodbury, to Michonne. Terminus, to all of us. I guess I’m just waiting to find out what’s wrong with this place. There must be something. Something deep and dark and awful, hidden somewhere around here. Do you think that’s weird? I’m trying,’ she assures him quickly. ‘We all are. But there must be something wrong with this place. Or maybe we’re just too broken. If that’s how we think, maybe we’re just too broken to live in a place like this. Maybe _we_ are what’s wrong.’

‘We ain’t broken.’

‘No?’ She asks softly. ‘Rick is unconscious, probably in some sort of coma, Rosita and Sasha are out cold. Carol is pretending to be someone she’s not. And so are you. It feels like we’re losing ourselves. It happened out on the road; people becoming other people. It felt wrong. It feels wrong now.’

‘Michonne and Eugene are comin’ home today. We’re startin’ on our jobs. New lives. It’s different, but we’re not.’

Maggie chews on some of her meat. ‘They look at Glenn like he doesn’t belong.’

_Chink. Never thought you’d consider him to be kin._

‘They said somethin’?’ Daryl asks as he sheets his knife. ‘Tell me who and I’ll beat their ass into the ground.’

She smiles at that, fond and warm. ‘No. Nobody said anything, it’s just… Maybe it’s just me.’ She laughs and shakes her head a little. ‘Can’t believe how much you’ve changed over the last year. You’re not the man you were at the farm.’

He just looks at her. Small eyes and tight lips.

‘When Glenn told me Merle was your brother, I couldn’t believe it. Thought he was lying to my face. But I see it now.’

He flinches at that.

‘I’ll never forgive him for what he did to me,’ she tells him. ‘Or to Glenn. But he tried to do right by you, in the end. He’d let Michonne go, bought us time, weakened the Governor’s forces. They say blood is thicker in the south. He would have agreed. And I know what you have done for the people you consider to be your kin. You kept us fed. Kept Beth safe for as long as you could. And you found her for me. You found her.’

‘Didn’t matter in the end.’

‘It did. Of course it mattered.’ She pushes her plate away. ‘It feels like you’re the one making all the sacrifices now though. And I’m sorry.’

‘Ain’t sacrificing nothin’.’

‘Ben.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,’ Daryl mutters as he removes his boots from the table.

‘Please don’t lie to me. I saw you, remember?’

_Benjamin pushes up against the tree, shirt on the ground, pupils blown wide and wet tongue running over…_

‘You didn’t see _nothin’_.’ There’s a hint of warning in Daryl’s tone now. Boots land on the floor with heavy thuds. He leans on his knees with his elbows, hunched shoulders and sharp, narrowed eyes.

‘Daryl, please, you know you can talk to me, I’d never..’

Their conversation is abruptly cut off by running footsteps on the stairs. Daryl gives Maggie a final angry look before he schools his features back into indifference. Carl jumps down the last set of stairs, bounds into the kitchen with Noah hot on his heels.

‘Take that back!’ the dark-skinned boy laughs, swiping at the younger boy’s head.

‘What?’ Carl laughs, ducking behind Maggie. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a farmer. My dad was a farmer at the prison! _I_ was a farmer!’

‘I’m not a farmer! I’ll work at the greenhouses!’

‘So, you’re a greenhouser?’ Carl ventures, grinning.

‘That’s not even a word.’

‘Then you’re a farmer! Call it what it is,’ Carl says as he plops down on a chair. ‘Is that breakfast?’

‘Yeah,’ Maggie says, ‘and you’re old enough to get it yourself.’

Noah laughs at that, already moving to get a plate. ‘But not old enough for a job, so could you wash my underwear while I’m at work? You’re our maid now, right?’

‘Fuck you,’ Carl mutters, ‘they’ll give me a job, just you watch. I’m going to be a runner, like Glenn. I’ll find Davis today, tell him they’ve made a mistake.’

‘You will not,’ Maggie cuts in. ‘Rick wouldn’t want you to go outside. He’d want you to be _safe_.’

‘Daryl,’ Carl moans as he reaches for the hunter’s dirty plate, ‘tell her! I can help, right? You said so!’

‘I said ya can help lookin’ after ya sister. We don’t need another Grimes gettin’ himself into trouble. And no,’ he cuts the boy’s protests off, ‘Glenn doesn’t have time to babysit ya out there. Stay here with Carol, with Judith. Go to school. Do your chores. Stay out of trouble.’

‘I bet Benjamin would let me come. You’re done right? I can use your plate?’

‘Go ahead,’ the hunter nods, ‘and I don’t give a damn about what Benjamin would let ya do. Ya listen to Maggie, now. To Glenn and Carol. No one else.’

‘Okay, Daryl.’

Maggie looks slightly surprised how easily the boy gives the argument up but Daryl doesn’t care. He gets up and stretches.

‘I’m going out,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll stop by Rick, check up on him and the rest. Could you fetch Michonne and Eugene later? And sort out the bedrooms, we’re movin’ in to the other house. Get that sorted. Carl? Lend her a hand.’

‘Sure,’ Carl nods as he fills his plate. ‘I’ll visit dad in the afternoon. Make sure he’s okay.’

Maggie gives him another smile. ‘Of course, Daryl. Be safe.’

 

It’s too early for Ella to be at work, but there’s a man sitting behind her desk, doing a crossword puzzle in a yellowed book. They used to sell those at the gas stations. He knows his mom used to fill them out with pen. She got one for every holiday, treating herself to one of those damn puzzle books while getting him a comic and Merle a magazine about bikes.

The guy doesn’t introduce himself. He looks vaguely familiar and going by the way he’s holding his head, he’d probably been at the party yesterday, at least until after the moonshine had made an appearance. Red-rimmed eyes squint up at him.

He brushes past the guy, stalks down the hallway. The curtains to Rick’s room are open, but he ducks into the other room first to check up on the rest of his family. Michonne and Eugene are still asleep. Rosita and Sasha aren’t there. He walks back out. A hand on the cold glass.

Rick isn’t moving. Hasn’t changed since yesterday, isn’t opening his eyes. His chest rises steadily beneath the blankets.

Daryl stands there for a while. In the end, it feels too much like a vigil.

He raps his knuckles on the glass, three times, and leaves.

 

The woods welcome him home with whispered stories about rabbits, possums, foxes and mice. His boots are kissed by the moss, hugged by patches of mud near the riverbanks and snared by the many roots of the trees surrounding them. He walks over long-lost trails and makes his own. The sun guides him over hills, down stone ridges, always urging him on even though the orb has seemingly lost its heat.

The wind cuts through his thin shirt. He’s glad that the leather vest keeps his back warm.

It feels good to be out here again. Walkers are few and far between. He takes them down easily if he has to, but doesn’t mind taking the long way around in order to avoid them. His muscles strain when he climbs up a high ridge, stone scraping his fingertips raw as he holds on for dear life, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He makes it to the top, grinning like a fool and licking his fingertips to avoid dirt from causing the small wounds to get infected.

No one is looking at him. Not for anything.

He finds a nice, quiet spot. A small stream with clear water, ice cold when he splashes it in his face. He kicks his boots off, dunks his feet in the water and lets himself fall backwards in the grass, kicking the water every once in a while.

His mind drifts.

From Genesis and its walls to that small trailer, to the house he grew up in, to that farm he didn’t want to be at, to the prison he’d grown to love, to the library and the many hide-outs in between.

From Maggie who loves Glenn, to Glenn, who loves Carol, who loves Rick, who loves Carl, who loves Judith, who loves everyone who gives her five seconds of attention and a warm bottle but now starts to crawl and will soon walk and stumble and fall, just to try again and again and again.

From Rick to his brother, to his father, to his mother, to Benjamin who doesn’t want to ask and never assumes.

From puzzle books to comics, bikes, motor oil, gasoline, dirty rags, that gleaming wrench which his father preferred even though it left blooming bruises on his youngest son’s skin.

He looks at the clouds and wriggles his toes.

From his dad’s hunting lessons to ghost stories around a campfire, to Merle zipping their sleeping bags together and whispering in his ear about old Indian tribes who’d fought with war paint on their faces. To the roaring of that motorbike, to Merle picking him up from school and driving him over in the morning, hungover and complaining but still five minutes before the bell would ring. To Merle who pretended not to care but still bought him a new sketchbook for his fourteenth birthday, who sometimes called from prison just to bitch about the food and hear his brother’s voice, who had been planning to go to war but came back to Georgia instead.

When his feet get too cold, he sits cross-legged in the grass. He pulls his bag to him, opens it, gets the book out. He finds the page which has a dog-ear and starts reading, picking up where he’d left off the last time.

He learns about concept such as ‘build emotion regulation’ and ‘interpersonal skills’, of how people can regulate feelings of shame and fear, how professionals can create ‘a safe, supportive therapeutic environment’. He looks around the forest and snorts, shaking his head a little but still he reads on. About guidelines and interventions, about self-harm, about goals he should set, how to recognize his triggers and manage them better.

He stares up at the sky again and thinks about how lucky those people in Genesis have been. With their walls and perfectly timed road trips and fucking community spirit. He doesn’t understand how the Governor came knocking on _their_ gates while there are road signs leading to this place, huge-ass billboards advertising food, medicine, women. He hasn’t met lucky people in a long, long time. It feels bizarre to be among them.

A tiny part of him thinks they are luckier still now that his group is here. Glenn, with his quick feet and sharp eye. Maggie, with her quiet determination. Carol, Tara, Abraham, Rosita when she wakes up. Eugene, Sasha. Michonne, who is both a lethal shadow at Carl’s side and a shoulder for him and Rick to lean on when times get tough. Gabriel, who is _worthless_ , but now tries to rebuild a community on commandments he’d failed to follow. Benjamin, with his charming smile and sharp mind, but even sharper blade.

Rick, if he’d just _wake up_.

When the sun is high above him he gets up, puts his boots back on and lopes through the forest. He sets snares whenever he spots a trail and shoots a turkey between the eyes. He walks and walks, careful to keep his tread silent. A rabbit joins the turkey on his string. He tries to get a bird, a small flittering thing up in the tries, but his bolt pierces nothing but air and leaves, falling back to earth after a couple of seconds. It was a stupid shot to try, he thinks with a grunt, but his lips still curl upwards.

Hunting has always felt like an excuse to use his crossbow. Sure, when he was younger, and of course now, they have to eat and that’s why he hunts, but that’s not what he loves to do. He loves to shoot, no matter what he hits.

The thrill of lifting that bow, of letting his body relax, of twisting his visor just so, guessing the distance, tipping the weapon upwards, estimating how the bolt will fly, feeling the wind brush past his cheek, and then letting it go, fly, _shoot_ with a devastating force.

That buzz when it meets its target.

He lets the squirrels run up the trees. There’s so little meat on those things, they’re hardly worth the effort.

The sun is already starting to sink when he loops back towards Genesis. The snares are still empty so he leaves them. Maybe they’ll get lucky tomorrow. He has enough to square his debt for the cigarettes and give his family fresh meat to eat. He feels good about these woods. There are tracks everywhere and if he really puts the effort in tomorrow instead of lazing about by the river, he might contribute something to the pantry. He doesn’t want anyone to be able to claim that they’re not pulling their weight.

The gates are opened for him. He spots the guy he’s looking for near one of the benches and walks over, throwing the rabbit onto the table next to him.

The guy startles. ‘Fuck, Jesus Christ, Daryl, there you are. We’ve been looking for you!’

‘Why?’ Daryl shifts his crossbow to his back and lights a cigarette. ‘Got ya yar rabbit.’

The man rises cautiously, ‘you need to go home. Your family… something happened. I’m sorry, man.’

Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘ _what_ happened?’

‘The run… It went bad. Davis is with them now.’

‘What do you mean it went bad,’ Daryl snarls, stepping up to the guy.

‘They – they lost one of yours, man. I’m so sorry.’


	8. New scars, old wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. It's kinda canon-time-line-ish, right? Right. Y'all knew this was coming.
> 
> Chapter warnings: minor character death (mentioned).

 

* * *

 

 

He can’t remember how he’d managed to get to the house. It suddenly appears before him, but his lungs are stinging and his footfalls still echo through the street so he must have ran all the way. He dashes through the garden, flings himself onto the porch and then burst through the door.

His heartbeat thunders in his ears. It’s synched to a steady rhythm of; _Glenn – Benjamin – Glenn – Benjamin – Glenn – Benjamin_ , the almost non-existent silence between the beats filled with; _no, no, no, no, no_.

He feels sick when he stumbles into the living room.

Blue eyes find green eyes immediately.

Benjamin is sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees and one hand in his blond mop of hair. Shoulders slumped, blood on his clothes and skin, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, but unharmed. He opens his mouth but no words come out. A broken sob, maybe, and he staggers to his feet, leaning on Carl’s shoulder for a second while he finds his footing.

‘Daryl,’ he breathes, one hand reaching up to touch his biceps.

The hunter pushes past him roughly, dashing further into the house. There’s Tara, crying on Abraham’s shoulder. Gabriel who’s pretending to read his bible. He runs into the kitchen. There, at the table, he finds Maggie.

She’s holding Glenn. The Korean has buried his face in her neck, hiding from view as his body is wrecked with sobs. He’s covered in blood. It has dried and is now flaking off his skin, covering the floor. Desperate fingers dig into the thighs of his wife.

She strokes his hair and whispers words of comfort in his ear. Then she spots him. ‘Daryl is here,’ she says to her husband. And then to the hunter; ‘he’s okay.’

Glenn tears himself away from Maggie, eyes wide and red when he looks up at his brother. ‘Daryl,’ he says softly, much like how Benjamin had done. ‘I’m sorry – we tried – we tried to go back – to get him back, but…. It was too late. I’m sorry. Please. I’m so _sorry_.’

Daryl rocks back on his heels, his mind oddly blank. The blue gaze finds Carol, who is leaning against a kitchen counter. She has wrapped her arms around her midriff, hugging herself.

‘Who?’ he asks her.

‘Noah.’

‘ _How_?’

‘Their run went south. He was with a different group than Glenn and Ben. Walkers.’

‘We’re so sorry for your loss, Daryl,’ a voice comes from behind him. Davis. The man is holding Judith, broad hand on the tiny back, arm curled around her to keep her in place. ‘He was with Xander’s group, something went wrong inside a warehouse. Shelves collapsed. He got trapped. I’m sorry.’

Daryl watches how the mouth moves but it takes a long time before the words reach him. He blinks, just stands there for a moment. And then his mind stutters, information flooding in until he’s dizzy. Blue eyes narrow. ‘Carl,’ he says curtly with a nod at Judith.

The boy gets up immediately and takes his sister back. He doesn’t meet the leader’s eye but kisses Judith’s blond hair. There aren’t any tear-tracks on his face, but he’s biting down on his own teeth. A muscle in his neck twitches.

‘Noah wasn’t a runner,’ Daryl says. The blue gaze pins Davis down. ‘He had a job at the greenhouse.’

‘Gerard had come down with a cold overnight; he wasn’t feeling well. They were one man short,’ Davis explains.

Daryl slowly walks towards the leader. Measured steps. ‘And you picked the boy that _can’t_ _run_?’

‘He volunteered.’

‘You should have said no.’

‘Look, man, there was no one left to clear it with,’ Davis says. ‘Glenn and Benjamin had already left with the other group, they didn’t have time to go and find Maggie or Carol. The ones on gate-duty told us you’d taken off. And besides, he said he’d done it a million times! That his limp wasn’t that bad, that he would manage. He said he could do it.’

‘ _And you should have said no_ ,’ Daryl hisses. ‘He was just a goddamn kid. He would have said he’d robbed the devil blind if ya’d asked him. ‘course he’s never goin’ to admit that he can’t run for shit!’

‘Daryl – ‘ Davis tries.

‘ _This is on you_!’ Everyone in the room flinches. Some of them have never heard him rage before. He’s probably silent in their minds, like his bolts, but only Glenn and Carol can remember the cutting words; _Y’all left my brother for dead, you had this comin’_. ‘You got him killed, you fuckin’ son of a bitch, and now ya stroll in here, sayin’ you’re fuckin’ _sorry_? Sorry that he’s walker-food? That he survived and is now torn apart by dead bastards because you sorry pricks don’t know ya ass from ya elbow! Huh? _Huh_? He was just a kid and now he’s dead! Dare to tell me ya’re sorry now, you mother fucker!’

Davis glances at Carol, at Glenn and Maggie, raising his hands in surrender, ‘I need you to calm down, Daryl. There’s no need for this.’

The hunter scoffs at that, eyes dark as he balls his hand into a fist. ‘Where’s that little cunt of a brother of yours then? He was their _team leader_ , huh? Fuck. Fancy name and not worth shit, ain’t no different from before. First time my boys join his little gang, and one of them don’t come home, you’re telling me this is an _accident_?’

‘Are you accusing Xander of-‘

‘Yeah,’ Daryl growls, ‘I am. What the fuck you’re going to do about it? He should be in here, explainin’ why one of ours didn’t make it back, instead of sendin’ his big brother like a damn pussy. Did he lose his nuts same time he lost Noah?’ He grabs Davis’ shoulders, shoving him back towards the wall.

‘Daryl,’ Glenn says in a faint attempt to distract the hunter. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’ his friend snaps, ‘he got Noah killed. This is all on _you_ ,’ he tells Davis with another shove. ‘You and your little bitch of a brother.’

Suddenly there’s a hand on his belly, soft and warm, gently pulling him back.

Daryl looks down, then over his shoulder, at Benjamin who is dragging him away from the Genesis leader. ‘Stop,’ the blond says softly. ‘Please. It wasn’t his fault. It’s – it was an accident. Just a terrible, stupid accident. We tried to go back for him, Glenn and I. There were too many. The whole damn place was overrun. I’m sorry, Daryl. I’m so sorry, I promised you-‘

‘Don’t care what you promised,’ Daryl snaps back.

They look at each other. Blood-shot green eyes, raw from the tears which are now just salt on his cheeks. And blue ones, hard and unforgiving.

The door opens behind them. Michonne and Eugene enter cautiously. The looks on their faces betrays that they’ve already heard the new. The woman steps forward, her gaze finds Carl. The boy darts forward, Judith on his arm, and he hugs his best friend, hiding his face in her shoulder. She folds careful arms around him, pressing her cheek against the top of his head.

Tara pushes past Abraham to engulf Eugene in a tight hug. The man looks unsure of what to do, just stands there for a second before he loops an arm around her shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there and holds on to the shaking shoulders of his friend.

Anger leaves Daryl’s body as the hand falls away from his belly.

‘They are planning to hold a service for him,’ Maggie tells him. ‘Tomorrow morning.’

Davis nods, ‘Father, if you could say a few words, that would be greatly appreciated. The community would like to pay their respects to that fine boy, so it will be held on the town square.’

Daryl scoffs, ‘y’all didn’t know him.’

The leader of Genesis tilts his chin a bit higher in defiance, ‘he was ours now, too.’

The hunter glares, scoffs again and turns on his heels, ‘whatever. Goin’ out for a smoke.’

He sits in their back garden until he hears Davis leave, until the house settles down and his family starts to turn in for the night. There’s a short discussion in the kitchen, but no one wants to go and occupy the house next to them, at least not tonight. They huddle together. Michonne claims his bed for the time being, tries to joke about missing his fleas but it falls flat in his absence.

He burns through his pack of cigarettes.

Carol and Benjamin sit in the kitchen for a long time. Murmured voices through the closed door. He can’t hear what they’re talking about. Doesn’t care.

He thinks about Noah. The young man he would have left to die if it hadn’t been for Carol. The young man who had helped to get Beth back, even if it had been for just a second. Maggie’s words echo back to him; it had mattered. Of course it had mattered.

He smokes until his mouth is dry and the smoke feels like glass in his throat.

Then he claims one of the couches, passing by Benjamin and Carol without saying a word.

If they notice the new scars on his hands, they don’t say anything.

 

 

The service is held early in the morning. The sky is turning orange due to the fast-approaching dawn. Autumn cold nips at their bare skin as the community gathers on the town square. Daryl leans against the posts of the watchtower. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, hair hiding most of his expression.

The people from Genesis avoid him. Out of respect for his grief, maybe, but they find Glenn and Maggie, shaking their hands and giving tentative hugs as if they’re not sure the foreign touch will be welcomed. At least they’re not stupid enough to try that with him, Daryl supposes.

He watches how his family mourns from a distance. Tara between Abraham and Eugene. Carol near Maggie and Glenn. Benjamin has Judith on his hip, kisses her blond hair and lets her play with his. Michonne and Carl are standing nearby, leaning against each other for comfort amidst the strange crowd.

Raeanne joins them, Davis at her side.

Gabriel says his prayers, his words lost on Daryl as he watches how Benjamin coo’s at the little girl. She’s getting so big, he can hardly belief that she’d ever been that little bundle in Maggie’s arms. The first words won’t be long away now, not with such a teacher as Benjamin, and he just hopes Rick wakes up before they spill from her lips.

People join in a prayer. He watches how Maggie recites the words easily, but Glenn just bows his head in respect.

Someone else steps forward. They talk about Noah but it’s clear that they didn’t know the guy at all. No one from their group had wanted to speak. They keep their secrets. They keep their own.

Xander appears in the crowd. Daryl gives him a nasty glare even though the younger man isn’t looking at him. He joins Benjamin. Their shoulders brush as they stand side by side. He seems to be speaking, Benjamin has his gaze fixed on the Father, who is now reciting from his precious bible.

From where Daryl is standing, he can’t see Benjamin’s expression, but his shoulders are tense. The grip on the girl tightens, he shifts her to his other hip, away from Xander.

Minutes go by. Carol joins Daryl in his silence. There is nothing either of them can say, and neither of them have ever been big talkers. He likes that about her, that she’s just able to stand there, not expecting him to say a word but still perfectly comfortable. She’s not one of those people who always has to talk. And she never takes his silence for anything other than what it is.

Before the apocalypse he’d been to his own fair share of funerals. His grandmother’s, even though he can’t quite remember it, he was so young, but his mom’s too. A confusing experience, with Merle’s tough love to get him through the day, well-meaning people from the community who just didn’t understand and the heart-breaking grief of his father. It’s strange to remember that broken man at the altar, sinking down in front of his wife’s coffin, when all he usually recalls is a belt being wrapped around a broad hand, ready to strike.

He knows what grief can do to people. How it can make them something they never were. How death can not only claim people, but whole families too.

Of course, after the apocalypse, he’s dug several graves. And when there hadn’t been time, he’d honored the people with burns on his skin or sleepless nights. Nightmares. Sometimes he still listens to Merle’s southern drawl, lets his brother kick his ass into gear when times get tough. That cruel tongue never fails to jerk him into action, fueled by anger, hatred and love, a lethal combination which sets his veins on fire.

It’s not so strange, he thinks, that he sometimes imagines that his brother is still with him. He knows that Maggie sometimes talks to Beth, to her dad, and that Rick saw people who weren’t there for a while at the prison. He wonders whether Carol sees Sophia. He knows better than to ask. They are different, she’d been right about that back on the road. He needs to be reminded that they are gone, that it fucking _hurts_ , because otherwise he fears that he won’t feel a damn thing, ever again. Back then he’d thought that the only thing left in this world was hurt.

He needs to feel that, if only because it reminds him of the fact that he loved. That that feeling in his stomach he gets whenever Glenn leaves on a run actually means something. That Maggie and Michonne can lift his spirits with witty come-backs because they have made it inside his walls. That he does more than just respect Carol.

He doesn’t say it. Not to any of them. Instead, he calls them brother, lets them fuss over him whenever he returns from a hunt. He hopes they can see his real meaning in that.

If it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t real.

This is real.

There isn’t a body, but there was blood all over Benjamin and Glenn, and a lost look in both their eyes, tears on their cheeks. Noah is never coming back. It’s real. And therefore, it hurts. Or it hurts and that makes it real.

He thinks about that desperate voyage Rick had gone onto to find the boy’s family. They had owed him, sure, but not one of their own lives. He thinks that Rick was just buying time back then. That the road had been so unclear, the direction so uncertain.

They had paid for it with Tyreese’s life.

He wonders whether Noah has paid for his decision. The road might not be uncertain, it might have ended, but it doesn’t feel like it for him. Maybe that’s why he wants to go out, beyond the walls, because he doesn’t feel like he belongs here. He left and there hadn’t been anyone to keep an eye on things and now Noah’s dead.

It might be on him, in the end.

He’s the one calling the shots now. Is this what Rick felt, he wonders. Is this what he was talking about when he’d knelt beside the graves he had been digging and told him that he’d made too many mistakes?

Daryl hadn’t seen it back then. He does now.

He looks on how Glenn and Maggie put a flower on the exact middle of the square. The service is over. They mingle with the community. Accept hugs and handshakes, tell everyone that; yes it’s terrible, but thank you so much for your condolences.

It eases some of Daryl’s nerves. He gets to sink back into the shadows. He got them here but they will be why they get to stay.

Carol looks at him. ‘Want to get back to the house?’

He nods but doesn’t move. Instead he watches how Benjamin calls Michonne over, giving Judith to the woman. They speak quietly and Michonne frowns, shakes her head, but Benjamin squeezes her shoulder before walking away.

Xander falls into step besides him.

‘He’s not worth it,’ Carol says. ‘Let Benjamin deal with him.’

It’s a rare moment of misunderstanding between them.

‘You’re right,’ he nods. ‘C’mon.’

They walk away. People wave at Carol, tell her that they’ll bring around dinner, that she doesn’t have to worry about that on top of their grief. A man shakes Daryl’s hand. He barely notices, giving him a tight grip before brushing past, only sparing his family a last glance to let Michonne know that they’re leaving.

The woman dips her chin in acknowledgement and starts to herd Carl back too.

 

Daryl waits for her on the porch. The boy slips inside the house after a curt nod at the hunter. Daryl sits down on the banister and looks down the street. People are still milling about on the town square. From here he can’t see the flowers, but when he looks down at the church he can see that Davis is writing Noah’s name on the side of the church. A list of those they’d lost.

‘You all right?’ Daryl asks Michonne as she sit down next to him. Judith has gotten hold of one of her dreadlocks, tucking and chewing on it happily, babbling in her ear about the nonsense only toddlers notice.

‘Yeah,’ she sighs, ‘it’s good to be back. Still have to take my meds, but they say I’m no longer contagious. Sasha and Rosita were waking up too. They’ll get better soon.’

‘And Rick?’

‘No change.’

Daryl nods. He looks at her. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

‘Me too, Georgia. Pissed that I took your bed?’

‘Nah. We need to move into the second house anyway. I’ll sleep there. You stay here with Carl and Judith. With Carol.’ He sets his jaw, ‘Benjamin. Don’t care who joins me in the other house. Just not them, okay?’

‘Afraid that you won’t be able to keep to your own bedroom when he’s around, loverboy?’

‘Shut up. Ain’t like that no more.’

Michonne looks at him, ‘what?’

Daryl bites on his thumb, ‘none of your goddamn business anyway. Take care of Ass kicker, okay? Carl too. They need you around.’

‘They need _you_ around too,’ the woman says, ‘what’s going on? I’ve been away for three days and the whole group is falling apart? You and Ben no longer our dream duo? Noah died and now you’re running out on Carl? On Judith? What the fuck’s going on, Dixon?’

‘This ain’t on me, okay?’ he hisses back. ‘I got them in. Rick’s being looked after. Maggie and Glenn got everything handled. Have you looked at this place? A blind man could see I don’t belong! Their fuckin’ picket fences, community spirit.’

‘Did you hit your head on the way in?’ Michonne asks him with a frown marring her face. ‘Jesus. Think we’re going to just let you run off because you don’t have any table manners?’

‘I’m not runnin’ off. You don’t know shit.’

She shifts Judith to her other hip and stares him down. ‘Oh no,’ she says softly, ‘I know exactly what you’re doing. You’ll hide in that house so you don’t have to see him and you’ll say it’s easier on him. And you’ll let everyone become members of this community and say it’s better for them. But you’re lying because it doesn’t hurt as long as you don’t have to see Ben get on with things, and you don’t have to worry about the little ones when our group has their back. So you can go out there. To hunt, to just _be_ , and after a while, you think nobody will need you anymore.’

Daryl glares at her.

‘Is that the plan? To slowly slip away?’

He folds his arms and doesn’t say anything.

‘Thought you had bigger balls than that, Dixon.’ She tilts her head to the side. ‘Or is walking away a genetic defect?’

 He narrows his eyes at her. ‘Don’t ya dare talk about my br-‘

‘Hey.’

They turn on their heels to see Benjamin standing there. He’s wearing his old clothes, a gray vest with the hood hiding his blond hair and dirty-white wife beater. The sleeves are pushed up over his elbows. A dark pair of jeans riding low on his hips. He still wears the holster for his sister’s gun without the actual piece in place. A knife glints on his belt.

He’s rubbing at the side of his nose now to hide a smile, ‘did I manage to sneak up on the hunter and the samurai?’ Judith reaches out for him, prattled baby talk spilling from her lips. ‘Oh, not you, huh?’ He asks as he takes her from Michonne. ‘Been taking lessons from Daryl then, Ass kicker?’

Daryl squares his shoulders and brushes past the woman. ‘I’m going to get my stuff.’

‘What’s going on?’ he hears Benjamin ask but Michonne’s answer is lost on him as he walks up the stairs to get his gear.

Carol might not be happy with his decision to move out, but she can’t object to it when Eugene and Abraham are moving out too. Carl doesn’t say anything on the matter. He just sits at the kitchen table and stares at the cup of tea Carol made him earlier.

The other house is an identical copy of their first one. The only difference is that Eugene is occupying this kitchen table, still pale and clammy but no longer coughing his own lungs up.

He claims the smaller bedroom at the top of the stairs again and sits on the bed for a couple of seconds. There’s a window that gives him a view of their backyard and the wall beyond.

A knock on the door.

‘What?’ He snaps.

The door opens and Benjamin steps inside. He closes the door behind him. ‘Hi. You’d forgotten your laundry. Carl noticed and I might have threatened the rest of the family for the rights to bring it over.’

Daryl frowns, ‘I’m not in the mood for comic relief.’

‘I wasn’t joking,’ Benjamin throws the clean clothing onto the floor near Daryl’s pack. He walks up to the hunter. ‘Daryl, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shut up.’

‘No,’ the blond sinks to his knee before his friend. A hand on Daryl’s shoulders for balance. ‘I really am sorry. Noah was a good kid. I liked him.’

‘Me too.’ Daryl bites on the thumb of his nail. ‘He was there,’ he murmurs. ‘When we lost Beth, Maggie’s little sister. She were the one who… We were together for a while after the prison. We just ran, you know? Taught her how to hunt. She’d gotten good fast.’

Benjamin gives him a small smile, ‘you gave her lessons? Must have been one hell of a girl.’

‘She was.’

‘Tell me about her.’

Daryl looks at his friend and shrugs. Then he smiles a little, ‘she never had no decent drink before and set about findin’ some after everything had gone to hell. Led us to some golf club, fancy ass shit, you know? The only thing she found was peach schnapps.’

‘Never had it but sounds gross.’

‘It is,’ Daryl nods. ‘Smashed the bottle and took her to a hunting cabin Michonne and I had found earlier. It was stocked good with moonshine. Might be foul stuff but makes for a good first drink.’

Benjamin grins, ‘well, if she was sticking with you, yeah. It’s a bit more your style, I guess, than peach schnapps.’

‘Yeah. We stayed in the cabin for a bit, we…’ He looks away. ‘I said some shit I shouldn’t have. Got mad at her over some dumb drinking game. Was stupid. Know I’m a mean drunk,’ he bites his thumb for a second. ‘My dad was. Merle was too. She found out the hard way that I am too, I guess.’ He glances up at the green eyes again. ‘We burned the cabin down, after. Got back on the road and we found a place. A funeral home or something, fucking gussied up dead bodies in the basement. There was food though, a whole stash.’

‘What happened?’ Benjamin urges when Daryl falls silent.

‘Didn’t last,’ the hunter shrugs and his gaze darkens, ‘just went to shit like everything else. We got separated, I found her and someone blew her brains out,’ he snaps. ‘End of story.’

‘Okay.’ Benjamin stands and walks over to the window. ‘End of story.’

Daryl glares at his own feet. He thinks about how perfect yesterday had been. With the quiet and the forest, the white noise of his own breathing and the river, the couple of moments of peace while flipping through that damn book he still drags around. That book with the professional jargon he doesn’t understand but examples he can relate to. The lessons he has tried to learn from it and only now wants to implement.

‘She used to sing,’ he blurts out before he can stop himself. According to that damn book, communication is everything.

Benjamin turns around and leans back against the windowsill. His eyebrows are raised in surprise.

‘Beth,’ Daryl clarifies even though he doesn’t have to. He throws a look over his shoulder. ‘She – she used to sing.’

‘Was she good?’

‘Better than most, I guess.’ He shrugs and scratches at his cheek.

‘You liked her?’

‘Yeah. Maybe not at first, you know, but she was right; I didn’t get her in the beginning. She weren’t like Maggie. Nothing like Michonne or Carol. She was…’ He bites on his nail, ‘she was sweet, you know. Just a sweet girl with her songs, blonde curls and big blue eyes. First time I saw her, I thought she’d be dead in days. But she made it. All the way to that prison, to the cabin, to that hospital. Not a mean bone in her whole body but she made it.’ He sighs. ‘I liked her. Not as in, you know,  but yeah. I liked her.’

‘She sounds great,’ Benjamin says. ‘Thanks for telling me about her. You know I love learning new things about you.’

‘Yeah whatever, man. Don’t matter none now. Was what it was, don’t go pokin’ yar nose in.’

‘Hey, I was willing to let it slide after _end of story_. Stop the act. It’s just us in here. Jesus,’ Benjamin breathes. There’s a soft thud when he leans his head against the window. ‘Fair warning; one day I’ll get fucking tired of having to say that. It’s us. It’s _just us_! My God, think you’re ever going to catch on to that?’

‘Fuck you,’ Daryl murmurs as he wipes over his face with both of his hands.

‘Wish you would.’

The hunter laughs despite himself, ‘that was just – that was a cheap shot.’

‘Left yourself wide open for it,’ Benjamin grins. ‘You laughed though, so mission accomplished.’

Daryl throws another glance over his shoulder, just a flash of a grin. ‘Gonna stand there all day?’

‘I might. I can pretend to be on guard or something and when it gets dark I’ll be able to see your reflection in the window. Let no one say I’m not a little bit of a creeper. I’m done being mister nice guy for today. Didn’t that used to be a thing? Get your creep on? _Freak_ on! Get your freak on. I wish my friends were still around so I could go all; I finally got my freak on in some hot guy’s bedroom – they always laughed because I was, like, _vanilla_ – but now I, err, I hypothetically creeped on your reflection? Is that even a kink somewhere? Damn, was getting your freak on even a good thing? I don’t remember. What?’

‘ _Jesus Christ_ ,’ Daryl laughs, ‘did your mom drop ya when ya were a kid or somethin’?’

‘Probably,’ Benjamin replies promptly. ‘Kids are pretty slippery. It’s more likely that I bashed my own head in, though. I once broke my collarbone because my dad opened my car door and I just, well, I just fell out! No rhyme or reason, I just took a tumble from a stationary car. Went to the ER and my parents were questioned by child services for hours because nobody believed the story.’

The hunter smirks, ‘happened before or after your twenty-fifth birthday?’

‘Jackass.’

‘Hmm. Seriously, gonna stand there all night? Move where I can see ya.’

Benjamin snorts as he pushes himself away from the window and slinks over the other wall. ‘Or you could just shift on the damn bed, you lazy fucker,’ he says as he now leans against the wall near the door. His hands are in his pockets, the hood of his vest pushed down and his blond hair a mess of half-formed curls. It’s getting long. The tips reach his eyes.

‘Could have,’ Daryl says as he looks up at his friend. ‘Lock the door.’

‘Why?’ Benjamin asks even though he reaches out and twists the lock without waiting for the answer.

The hunter shakes his hair out of his eyes and leans back onto the bed, resting on his elbows, boots firmly on the ground. He jingles his legs for a second like he’s nervous. ‘Made up my mind, I guess.’ He doesn’t quite meet Benjamin’s eyes. There’s a blush flaming up his neck and cheeks, curling around the tips of his ears.

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah.’ Daryl takes a deep breath, one hand snaking down to his belt, unbuckling it easily with a little tug and twist. Then he looks up, ‘if you’re – err – if you’re still game and all.’

Benjamin‘s expression is a mixture of surprise and amusement. He pushes himself away from the wall. ‘Oh, I’m game, all right.’

 

 


	9. And ever, and ever, amen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it doesn't read as awkwardly as it was to write.  
> \- James
> 
> Chapter warning: explicit sexual acts

 

* * *

 

 

There’s a beat of silence while Benjamin steps into his personal space. Daryl feels his heart hammer in his throat as he looks up at the guy who is now looming over him. Nerves cause his fingers to shake a little. He hides it by twisting them into the blanket beneath him. A tingle runs up and down his spine as he feels the green gaze roam over his body.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah.’

‘We don’t have to,’ Benjamin assures him.

‘Stop treatin’ me like a blushing virgin.’

Benjamin laughs at that, ‘have you seen yourself? I could never treat you like that. You are made of sex.’ He puts a hand on Daryl’s shoulder to have him lean back a bit and then slides onto his lap, the hand gliding over to the other shoulder so his arm curls around the hunter’s neck, their thighs pressing against each other’s.

The sudden shift in proximity causes Daryl to tense. His fingers grasping the blanket tightly for a second before relaxing again when Benjamin just leans back on his knees and studies his face.

‘Where did you get this scar?’ A finger comes up to trail over the skin between his hairline and eye, moving towards his ear. ‘It looks kind of new.’

‘Got shot in the head.’

Benjamin blinks. ‘Excuse me?’

‘A girl shot me in the head,’ Daryl clarifies. ‘Mistook me for a damn walker while she was guarding our camp, grazed me. She’d just learned how to shoot. Bit trigger happy, I reckon.’ The finger slides into his hair, then the hand, nails scraping lightly over his skull. He shivers and tilts his head a bit to the side for easier access.

‘Did you make her regret it?’

‘Nah. She didn’t mean to, brought me a damn book while I was recovering and-‘

‘What book?’ Benjamin looks far too excited by the mention of literature. The green eyes light up and the skin around them wrinkles when he smiles. One hand is still carding through Daryl’s hair, a soothing rhythm from his hairline down to the nape of his neck.

Daryl’s arms loop around the small of his back to keep him in place, tugging him a bit closer even. ‘Don’t remember. There were no pictures. What? Ya wanted to start a damn book club or something?’

‘No,’ his friend smiles, ‘was just curious whether it was something I’ve read.’

‘I didn’t read it.’ One of Daryl’s thumbs slips under the hoodie and shirt, rubbing at the warm skin.

‘Okay,’ Benjamin brushes the hair out of his face. Then he leans in, presses his lips to Daryl’s. It’s a chaste kiss, just lips pressing against lips. Their noses brush, their fringes mix, blond and brown. ‘I missed you,’ he says when he pulls back slightly, whispering against dry lips. ‘I’m so sorry about what happened.’

‘Stop,’ Daryl says because he doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to remember, not now, when they fit so perfectly together, their bodies slotting like a jigsaw solved, close and just right. His nerves sing when he slides a whole hand under the shirt, feeling the muscles of his friend shift, feeling his spine beneath smooth skin. He tilts his head slightly, lets his lips part for another kiss.

Benjamin claims it. Lips on lips, wet as he licks into the mouth. A low groan rumbles in his chest when their tongues meet like lost lovers, a tinge of desperation and a touch of love. His hands move to cup Daryl’s face, keeping him in place when the kiss deepens. Their chests press together, he lets himself sink lower, leaning his weight down on Daryl’s crotch.

One of the hunter’s hands move lower, curling around his ass, pulling him closer still while he hums into the kiss. Teeth nip at lower lips, pulling and letting go, tongue’s meeting, curling around each other. Their breaths mingle. Short little gasps of air before lips reattach. A hand on Daryl’s jaw, the other sinking into dark hair, keeping him close and wanting more.

‘I love you,’ Benjamin breathes when they part again. His pupils are blown wide, the green just a sliver around the blackness. He pushes at Daryl’s shoulders, shoving him back onto the bed, then he leans forward to suck on that tender spot below his jaw, kissing down his Adam’s apple to where his shirt opens up before going back up and claiming the lips for another searing kiss.

Daryl squeezes his ass, roams over it with one hand, then follows the strong lines of the body above him to the thighs hugging his own. He seeks friction by bucking his lips lightly, then moves his hand up to the back, pressing his friend’s body closer to his own. Chest against chest, a foreign heartbeat against his own. The kiss turns sloppy when he licks at the tongue trying to invade his mouth. His other hand buries itself in the mess of blond hair.

‘Can I – God,’ Benjamin groans. ‘fuck, I missed you,’ another deep kiss, breaths on each other’s cheeks, noses bumping every once a while when they change positions, each of them trying to dominate the kiss. Hands on Daryl’s chest now, roaming, feeling the muscles of his abdomen, moving over his chest towards the buttons of his plait shirt. ‘Can I?’

Daryl stills, his hips sinking into the matrass as he looks up at his friend. Lips shining wet and eyes so dark he can see himself in them. ‘Yeah,’ he breathes, ‘just-‘

‘I know,’ the blond murmurs before claiming his lips again. One hand flicks the buttons open easily, pushing the clothing aside to get access to the pale expanse of skin and rippling muscles. Fingertips brushing over his chest, teasing a nipple. They touch scars, rough patches of old pain, but glide over it without hesitation.

‘Fuck,’ Benjamin shifts, putting one foot down so he can angle his body just so, kissing down Daryl’s neck to his chest, mouthing over his breastbone, tongue trailing over a nipple. He sucks on it, soft at first, then harder.

Daryl groans and lets his head fall back. Arches into the touch. Fire starts to course through his veins, causes his hands to tremble against the contours of Benjamin’s body. All taunt muscles, hardened from exercise and survival. ‘Fuck yeah,’ he mutters when Benjamin moves to the other nipple, licking and sucking on it. ‘Feels good.’

‘Yeah,’ his friend agrees, the word murmured into the skin. ‘Tell me when it doesn’t though. I can stop. Probably,’ he smiles, ‘no I _can_. Okay? God, fuck, you’re so hot,’ his hands roam over the chest, curving around the ribs, burying into the warmth between his skin and his shirt. He tears his lips from the hot skin, sliding back onto his friend’s lap and tugging him upright again. ‘Off,’ he growls, pushing at the shirt and vest.

Daryl tosses them aside. They look at each other, chest heaving with deep breaths which are nearly pants, seeing each other in their eyes. He doesn’t have time to worry about the scars, the marks left by his upbringing, but instead loves the lips on his, the surprisingly soft kiss, the hands on his jaw, fingers on his neck as his breath is stolen from him.

He tugs at the hoodie mindlessly, his hands wanting more skin to roam over, his body yearning for the heat hiding beneath cloth.

Benjamin shrugs out of the hoodie easily, a roll of strong shoulders and it falls between Daryl’s feet on the floor. Then he reaches down, hands go up to pull the wife beater up over his head. Daryl watches the expanse of skin hungrily. Nails raking over it as his heartbeat picks up. His fingers get used to the flatness off the chest in front of him, moving up ribs and thumbs flicking over hard nipples which causes his friend to groan.

The skin is hardly flawless. Like his own, it’s marred by history. There’s a scattering of old pain on his side, where glass had pierced his skin due to stupidity, stretch marks sneaking up from his hips tell the story of abundance and teenage growth spurts. A faint trail of blond hair around his belly button leading down to his jeans, hiding away beneath a belt and denim. A broad chest, heaving with labored breath, dark pink nipples firm, that stretch of inviting skin leading up to a lean neck, wet lips, those wrinkles which betray the ever-lasting smile in those green eyes.

Lips on lips, crashing together. It’s messy, too frantic when Daryl pulls at the blond hair and Benjamin moans into his mouth, wet too. Hot when Daryl whispers his name against his lips, bucking his hips involuntarily.

The hunter is shoved back again, back thudding down on the matrass as Benjamin lowers himself between his legs. He kneels, hands on the buttons of Daryl’s pants.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, lips glistering from Daryl’s assault.

‘Fuck yeah,’ Daryl breathes, helping his friend undo the buttons but mostly getting in the way. Their fingers twining together as buttons slip free. He lifts his hips, feels how the jeans and his underwear slides down his thighs, past his knees before pooling around his ankles. He closes his eyes. Folds an arm over them as he feels hands on his boots, laces becoming undo before they’re taken off, tossed aside, his feet freed from the prison of clothes.

‘Fucking beautiful,’ Benjamin breathes as strong hands stroke his thighs. ‘Hey,’ he kisses the inside of his knee, ‘look at me.’

Daryl shakes his head, breathes through his nose.

A trail of kisses up his leg, passing his groin but loving his belly, his chest, his chin and nose, ‘hey,’ is whispered against his lips, his arm pushed aside. ‘Look at me.’

He opens his eyes. Green is all he sees. The color of the forest, dark and haunting and so close he could drown in it.

‘It’s okay,’ a thigh shifts, brushes over his cock which is already hard, his body far more willing to admit defeat or surrender than his mind. Looming voices in the dark. Scars vivid on his pale skin, burning with learned life-lessons. ‘It’s just us. I love you,’ a lick over lips, a kiss in the corner of his mouth, ‘I fucking love you, Daryl.’

‘Yeah,’ he breathes because he knows, he _knows_ that, and his chest feels far too tight and small for all the things he’s feeling right now. His mind drowns in feelings. That body, starting to slicken with sweat as they press together, those hands on his ribs, on his hips, curling around and tugging at his thighs. Rough denim pressing against his cock, barely hiding that erection that is pressing back, hard. He rolls his hips. A moan slips from his lips. ‘Fuck. I’m okay.’

 ‘Sure?’

He laughs. An arm curling around his friend’s shoulders, dragging him down so he can suck on that neck, taste the heartbeat. ‘I’m sure.’ He buries his fingers in blond hair and pushes the head down gently.

Benjamin smirks as he slides back onto his knees. Devilish hands over a taunt stomach and then wrapping around his cock. Daryl hisses, hips jerking slightly. ‘Need it bad, hmm?’

‘Fuck,’ Daryl mutters, hands scrambling to find a grip on the blanket. He stretches, one hand coming up to rest at the back of his own head, the other on Benjamin’s blond hair. ‘Yeah, God,’ he moans as Benjamin lets his thumb flick over the head. Pre-come already leaking from it, serving as lubrication as he pumps his hand. ‘Ah, yeah, been fuckin’ ages, _fuck_.’

‘You’re so hot like this,’ Benjamin tells him before leaning down to kiss up his thigh, his cheek brushing the cock before he tilts his head and kisses the shaft.

Daryl’s chest heaves, his fingers tugging at the blond hair. ‘C’mon,’ he growls, ‘fuckin’ take it.’

‘Want me to suck ya, hmm?’ Benjamin teases. One broad stroke of his tongue over heated flesh, up up up to the head, flicking over it, curling around before he kisses the tip. ‘Tell me you want it.’

‘I want it,’ Daryl answers immediately, unashamed because he’s aching for it, his cock hard between his legs, the muscles in his lower belly rippling with anticipation. He squeezes his eyes shut. ‘Fuck, Benji, c’mon.’ Too late, he realizes that he’s whining.

It doesn’t matter because Benjamin breathes in through his nose and wraps his lips around his cock, sliding down.

‘ _Fuck_!’ Daryl bucks but is pressed down by a set of firm hands, a smothered moan, and then just arches his back, head pressed into the matrass. Hands coming up to cover his eyes, palms digging in as he groans.

A wet pop and the heat is subsiding until it isn’t. Wet heat all around his cock as Benjamin swallows him again. The blond moans, the sound echoed by Daryl.

‘Fucking hot,’ Benjamin says as he pulls back, pumping his hand, stroking Daryl’s cock, ‘you’re perfect.’

‘Suck it,’ Daryl growls, his hands falling away from his face. He lifts himself to his elbows but realizes his mistake when he looks down and sees how easily Benjamin takes his cock into his mouth, pale pink lips wrapped around the flesh, his cheeks hollowing when he sucks hard for a second. He bobs his head, one hand cupping Daryl’s balls, the other wrapped around the base of his dick. When he needs air, he pulls back, lets his tongue loll out, tapping the head of Daryl’s cock against it. A wicked grin on his face as he pumps his hand a couple of times before letting his hand fall away and replacing it with his mouth again. Cheeks hallow as he hums, eyes closing, lips and cock glistening because of his spit.

‘Stop, fuckin’ _stop_ ,’ Daryl chokes out as he pushes himself up further. Benjamin pulls his hand and head back like he burned himself, eyes wide and filling with fear.

‘What? Did I – ‘

Daryl leans forward, folds a hand around the back of his friend’s and yanks him close, their lips crashing together. ‘Come here,’ he growls into the mouth, dragging Benjamin up and then down with him.

‘Jesus,’ the blond laughs as he climbs onto the bed, hand running over the scarred chest beneath him, receiving pecks on his cheek, jaw, neck and lips. ‘Thought I’d spooked you.’

‘Want to last longer than two seconds,’  Daryl murmurs as he sinks into the mattress, stroking one hand up and down Benjamins back. ‘Let me cool down for a sec. I –‘ he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes in mortification. His skin is already a darker shade due to exertion, the blush hides beneath it. ‘I got some questions.’

‘All right,’ Benjamin says easily as he leans on his side, sliding one leg between Daryl’s. Rough denim over heated skin. The hunter bucks his hips lightly, without thinking about it, and Benjamin smiles. ‘Can I still touch you?’ His hand roams over the chest, rubbing lazy circles into the skin.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl tilts his head down and catches the lips in a softer kiss. He drapes an arm over Benjamin’s shoulders, fingertips ghosting over bare shoulder blades. ‘How did-‘ he’s pecked on the lips, ‘how did ya know?’

‘Know what exactly?’ Benjamin murmurs as he puts his head on his friend’s shoulder. His fingers now trail over his stomach, nails scratching at that small trail of hair leading down to his crotch.

‘That you were…’ Daryl trails off, unsure.

‘That I liked boys too?’

‘Hmm-hmm.’

Benjamin blows up his cheeks and lets the air out with a soft pop, ‘I dunno. There wasn’t like a _moment_ , you know. Guess I always knew, then. First time I kissed a boy was in high school, he’d asked me out to the movies but we were always hanging out with this large group so I just figured he’d meant with _all of them_ instead of _with me_. Arrived at the place, turned out to be just him so I was all: okay, that’s cool too. We hung out, he walked me home, kissed me in the alley behind my house.’

Daryl frowns, ‘and you were just….?’

Benjamin laughs, ‘and I was just; okay, that’s something we can do now? All right. Cool. Didn’t think it would be such a big deal until I told my dad.’

The hand on the blond’s back stills. Blue eyes narrow, ‘what did he say?’

‘Guess he was kinda surprised,’ Benjamin murmurs as he kisses the hunter’s jaw. ‘But then again; not really. He _had_ met me before, you know?’ Another grinning kiss, this time in the corner of his mouth. ‘Just talked about it, how I felt and such. Had the other version of _the talk_.’

Daryl shifts so he can look at Benjamin’s face, ‘he wasn’t… He was okay with… it.’

‘Yeah, I mean, it took him a while to get used to, of course. He wasn’t mad or anything, or disappointed. I think my parents were kind of scared for me, in a way. They wanted me to have the easy life and that’s not happening when you’re kissing boys in an alley.’ He laughs again, ‘I mean, gay rights came a long way, but it’s still not an easy life for most. And I’m not gay. Pansexual. Not everyone understands.’

‘Right.’

Benjamin studies his face, ‘are _you_ gay? Or, like, bi?’

‘No.’

‘Are you saying _no_ because you’re not or because you think you’re not supposed to be?’

Daryl frowns, ‘what? Just ain’t, all right?’

Benjamin opens his mouth, closes it and sits up, rubbing a hand through his hair. He sighs. ‘To say or not to say, that is the question, huh?’

‘The fuck?’

‘I was sucking your cock a minute ago, Daryl. I don’t mean to burst your bubble here, but if you’re closing your eyes and thinking of some damn bimbo with big tits sucking you off then I’m fucking out of here. Are you kidding me right now? Is that what you’ve been doing then? What, I was just right there, throwing myself at you so you thought; might as well? I thought – ‘ He’s cut off when Daryl pulls at his shoulder, hard enough to make him fall back down. There’s a soft grunt and Daryl pins him down easily, looming over him with angry eyes.

‘Think just because you’re sucking my dick, ya made me gay?’

Benjamin grits his teeth, ‘you realize you can’t _make_ someone gay, right? Jesus, it’s fine not to be gay, but then just tell me what you are. What you like! Guys? Maybe you just don’t really know yet, that’s fine too. Or maybe you’re more into women than men, it doesn’t have to be that clear cut, you know? And if you like women then that doesn’t mean that-‘

‘Shut up, it ain’t like – I – You don’t know nothin’ about me, I – ain’t gay, I just -  ‘ Daryl stares into the green eyes. His heart hammer in his ears, a deafening sound, white noise to the panic that is crawling up his spine. Fight or flight response, he knows. His fingers curl into a fist. ‘Fuck you,’ he spits into his friend’s face before ripping himself away from the bed, jerking his underwear and jeans back on, grabbing his boots and shirt before dashing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

 

He walks the wall. No one dares to speak to him. The community watches and whispers about grief and pain, but his family knows what heartbreak and indecision looks like in those blue eyes. The bow is left in their living room, but his hand is curled around his hunting knife. Sleek and warm to his touch. Needing a closer distance to kill.

Growls of walkers match his footsteps. The wall is high, he can’t possibly see them from this side but they follow him. They hear him. He hears them.

He almost wants to lead them to the gate. To open them, to cut them all down just to have something to do that’s easy. Simple. Something that is only hate and death, nothing complicated and nothing to do with him, personally, or them, at all.

He walks and pretend not to be running away.

He walks and tries to think about walkers instead of that warm chest under his palms, those lips on his own, that devious smile fading as lips slide over his cock.

He walks and hates that he’s boxed in, causing him to walk in a circle, ending up in front of his own house.

There’s no one in the living room or kitchen. With a huff, he runs up the stairs and slams the door of his bedroom closed.

This room isn’t empty, however.

Benjamin is lounging on the bed. He hasn’t pulled his shirt back on, nor his hoodie, but he has moved to the middle of the matrass, ankles crossing, a book in his hands. Green eyes glance up for a second before he licks his finger and flips a page.

Daryl stares.

‘Yeah,’ Benjamin nods without looking up. ‘Still here. Whenever you’re ready, man.’

Daryl shifts his weight a bit. The book in his friend’s hands is thick, the cover entirely black. He has seen it a couple of times over the past few months. It’s the book Benjamin had taken with him from the library. There’s writing on the spine in silver, but nothing else. Daryl hasn’t managed to catch the title yet. He doesn’t really care what book it is.

‘I can do this all day,’ Benjamin muses while flipping another page.

Daryl feels his heart thump inside his chest. He was so angry when he left, slamming doors and yearning for walkers on his path, but now he just feels tired and wary. ‘What the fuck do you want me to say?’

‘This isn’t multiple choice, Daryl.’ Benjamin looks up. ‘If you tell me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want to say something else, go right ahead.’

The hunter bristles and starts to pace up and down the foot of the bed. He steals glances but Benjamin just shrugs and turns back to his book, a finger trailing down the page to mark his spot. Daryl frowns, anger boiling in the pit of his stomach, but if he’s honest; there’s not just anger there. He looks at the lean chest resting against the pillows, the blond hair all mussed but still somehow in a fashionable cut, the abs which are clearly visible, that trail of blond hair on the soft part of his belly leading down. He stops by the window, leaning against the frame. ‘What do you want me to do? Talk about my goddamn feelings?’ He snorts.

‘If it helps,’ Benjamin murmurs, eyes still scanning the papers.

‘Helps with _what_?’ Daryl growls. ‘You don’t know shit.’ He turns and glares. ‘Look at ya. Tryin’ to be all understandin’ when _you don’t know jack.’_

‘Will always continue with not knowing jack unless you tell me what’s going on,’ the blond comments idly. He licks his finger again and flips a page.

‘Will you stop readin’ for one goddamn minute, you fucking asshole?’ Daryl darts forward and slams the book out of the blond’s hands. It crashes to the floor beside the bed.

Green eyes narrow. ‘Why? Do you have something to say?’

Daryl grits his teeth, hands curling into fists. Then he sneers, ugly and far too cruel. ‘Ya really think you’re so goddamn special now? That just because you can make my dick hard, I’m going to bend over for ya like some bitch in need? Pssh.’

‘Yeah, this won’t work, you know,’ Benjamin tells him. ‘The whole snarling, posturing, growling thing you’re doing? It’s not going to drive me away. We’ve been through all that before, and guess what; I’m still here. So care to pick another tactic? Shift gears midway? You could go for the whole sit down and chat routine, you know, for the sake of variety.’

Daryl glares at him.

His friend shifts on the bed so he’s leaning forward now. ‘When you said you had questions, my God, my heart was about to burst with happiness. Because I get it, man. This is weird. All of this is weird for you. But can we please be two people who own a secret dog together and _talk_?’

‘Why?’ the hunter asks, ‘it just fucks everything up!’

‘ _Why_ does it fuck everything up?’

‘Because…’ Daryl searches for words. There are too many inside his head, all jumbling around until he’s just far too angry to pick the right ones. His tongue feels all wrong. His fists itch. ‘It just does!’

‘No. Tell me why.’

‘Because ya won’t like what I have to say, all right?’

‘I doubt that.’

It would be so easy to break him now, Daryl realizes with a start. He’s staring at his friend, who looks back expectantly. Words on his tongue, vicious ones about how he really had been imagining a blond chick with big tits, how he doesn’t care about who touches him as long as he gets to use them, how all of this doesn’t mean a damn thing to him.

But he doesn’t want to because Benjamin is so _sure_. Of him. There’s no fear in his eyes, not a hint of wariness or suspicion. And maybe that’s what’s frightening him right now. He wonders what Benjamin sees. Fear, probably, that tinge of hysteria which causes his knuckles to yearn for a jaw, the sullenness which always makes his eyes too dark.

‘I’m not –‘ Daryl starts and then falters. He rests one knee on the bed, leaning on it as he looks down at his friend. For months now, he’s wondered when Benjamin would lose his fascination with him. When he would finally realize that he really is nothing more than what he seems to be. He might not be trash anymore, but he’s hardly a catch or very interesting, And now there’s a whole town filled with people who seem to adore the blond man as soon as they lay eyes on him. He remembers him at the party, surrounded by women with soft smiles and gentle touches, swinging hips and funny stories. He deserves someone like that, Daryl thinks. Someone who belongs in this town, by his side.

Not someone who prefers shadows and doesn’t even understand himself let alone other human beings. Someone so fucked up by time and circumstances that he belongs in a world where the dead feed off the living.

All of this might come too late, however, because Benjamin’s hand moves to his knee, stroking it absent-mindedly. The gesture is so casual, so natural that it almost makes Daryl sick.

And he knows that he never wants one of those women to grasp Benjamin’s hand, he never wants them to kiss that spot on his neck that makes the younger man groan, Daryl never wants them to know all the stories he knows about the blond.

‘I can’t,’ he says.

‘Why not?’

Because they’re going to have to live here and Daryl wants to hurt everyone who looks at Benjamin the wrong way. Wants to cut off hands that brush blond hair out of green eyes, wants to strangle anyone who even thinks about kissing those pale lips.

He knows that Benjamin loves him.

But he can’t say it back because that would make it real and far too much like the promise that he kisses into Benjamin’s skin when no-one is looking.

‘Because you’re going to regret this,’ he tells his friend. ‘And if this is – if we do this, if you let me do this, you won’t be able to take it back. Not ever. I’m not -  I’m not gay, okay? And there never was a girl who made me – there ain’t –‘ He swallows with difficulty. ‘Ain’t no-one else, okay? Weren’t never, I just – maybe, I – I think it’s just you. Forever.’

‘And ever, and ever, amen,’ Benjamins says as he grabs Daryl’s neck with one hand, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

Daryl covers the smaller body with his own, lips fighting for dominance as he runs his hands over the ribs, the sides, lets them round on shoulders to tug him even closer. He groans as Benjamin subjects to him, melting in the mattress and allowing the hunter to explore his mouth.

His mind is far too foggy to realize that that might have been a mistake.

A grin against his lips is the only warning he gets. Then there are hands on his shoulders, legs twisting around his own and one of his feet is knocked from the bed. Benjamin flips them easily.

Daryl lets out a surprised grunt as he lands on his back. He’s pinned down, hands on his wrists above his head, the younger man’s weight holding down his hips. Benjamin grins down at him.

Daryl tries to move his hands. Fails. Then tries to buck the other off of him but Benjamin just leans back slightly and holds him in his place. He looks up at his friend.

‘You love me,’ Benjamin tells him. ‘And you might not be gay and you never liked woman enough to stick around and you love me.’

‘Yeah,’ the hunter breathes.

Benjamin leans forward, all glinting eyes and hidden strength as he grins, his breath ghosting over Daryl’s lips. ‘Say it.’

 Blue eyes narrow, almost defiantly. The gaze flickers between green eyes and pink lips. He watches hungrily as Benjamin wets his lower lip, catches every blink and flutter of those lashes. He stops his struggling, uncurls his fists in invitation, one which Benjamin takes as he lets their fingers twine together.

‘I love you,’ Daryl says.

A soft smile graces Benjamin’s face. He leans down, letting their foreheads rest together. ‘And I love you. You crazy, stubborn fuck.’

 

 


	10. Asking it first

 

* * *

 

 

‘Little ass kicker is starting to crawl.’ Daryl leans on his elbows and picks at his nails. ‘First she was just rollin’ around and stuff but now she crawls all over the place. She’s fast.’ He bites at a hangnail for a second. ‘Gettin’ big now. Pulls herself up, tries to stand and walk, all that stuff, man. Ain’t strong enough yet. Keeps fallin’ over and shit, but she tries.’ He looks up at Rick’s motionless form. ‘Wish you’d see it man. Your little girl. Carl’s tryin’ to make his name the first word she says but it might be something stupid like applesauce. She loves that stuff.’

Daryl sighs and looks around the room. It’s one of the old classrooms, converted into an examination room. The bed is old. It creaks when he puts his boots on one of the ridges. IV-drips are attached to it, the lines sneaking down and ending in needles which have pierced Rick’s skin. Antibiotics, water, vitamins, he’s not sure which is which or what they’re supposed to do when Ella assures him that the man is getting better but Rick still won’t wake up from the coma he seems to be in.

One of his hands is cuffed to the bed. A precaution. He understands it but doesn’t like it.

‘Carl’s doing good,’ he murmurs as he rubs his hands together. It’s cold here. The heating has yet to kick in. It’s early in the morning, still a couple of hours before dawn. Blankets are piled on top of Rick to keep him warm. The hunter is wearing a wife beater he didn’t used to own and one of Benjamin’s hoodies. He’s not quite certain how the item came to be in his possession. He hasn’t seen the blond in days now. Maybe Carol made a mistake while sorting their laundry. He doubts it was a mistake if it was her though. He tugs at one of the white strings of the hood, gnaws on the end of it. ‘He’s making friends, I guess. There are a couple of teenagers here, but he…’ Daryl shrugs, ‘he says they’ll make him weak. Doesn’t want to go to school. Can’t blame him. He follows Abe around mostly, trying to join the construction team. Don’t worry, he stays within the walls, just helps out and shit, every once a while. Tries to help out Maggie, too. Writes down the rules, tries to rig up some sort of system for this place.’ He nods even though Rick can’t see. ‘Helps out with Judith. He’s doing good.’

‘Sasha’s up and about. She doesn’t like this place. Says there’s something wrong with it, that she can see it, but…’He shakes his head and rubs a hand through his hair. ‘Rosita’s getting better too. She’s at the house, sleeps a lot but she’s gettin’ there. Eugene’s lookin’ after them.’

‘Glenn’s in charge of one of the running team now. He and Ben split up between groups, Benjamin’s with Xander now. Stupid cunt. Little college boy thinkin’ he owns the world because his brother lets him boss people around. Always reminds me of one of those stupid white tweaker boys, ya know? Shit for brains, but he’s got his uses. Gives me cigarettes. They reckoned it’d be best if Ben was with him, he’s more diplomatic and shit. Xander seems to like him. Hell, everyone does.’

He scratches at his cheek. ‘Don’t know what else to tell ya, man. Time to wake up. Stop lazin’ about.’ He stands up, boots heavy on the floor. He glances at the face of his friend, gray and far too still, even in his sleep. ‘We need ya. We’re doin’ all right, but…’ He shrugs and walks away. ‘The kids miss ya.’

His footfalls echo through the building as he makes his way out. There’s a guard sitting at Ella’s desk, doing a crossword puzzle. He barely glances up, already so used to the hunter’s presence in the early morning. He just lifts a hand in a goodbye when Daryl passes.

The morning air is crisp. There’s fog ghosting through the street, the temperature plummeting now winter is setting in. They’re in the far south so he doesn’t think they’ll encounter snow any time soon, but it’s still a change from the hot summer.

He lights a cigarette and starts down the street.

He thinks about his little family, still asleep in their houses. He tries to stick to his own, spending most of his time up in his bedroom or outside of the walls, but every now and then he makes an appearance at Carol’s dinner table. Family nights, she calls those. Just them, no visitors allowed, and they usually end in shared memories and glasses raised to the dead.

A door opens to his right. He frowns and quiets his own footfalls. Usually he doesn’t encounter anyone on his early morning trip to see how Rick is doing.

It’s Xander’s house, the one right next to Davis’ . When he squints, he can see that it’s Benjamin who exits however, instead of the younger brother. The blond leans against the door for a second, hands on the wood and glass before he pushes himself away and lobes down the garden path, hands disappearing in his pockets.

His head is bowed, shoulders slumped as he aims a kick at a pebble.

‘What’re ya doin’ here?’

The head snaps up, so fast he almost stumbles, hands pulled out of his pocket with a jerk. Eyes wide, almost scared, until he realizes who spoke. ‘Daryl! Jesus Christ, you scared me shitless. What are you doing out here?’

‘I asked ya first.’

Benjamin laughs and shakes his head, ‘oh, we’re going to be like that this morning, hmm? Xander wanted to discuss some places for the next run, got late and I crashed on the couch.’

‘Ya house is across the street.’

‘It had more to do with those bottles of moonshine than sheer distance, really,’ Benjamin says as he rubs at the back of his head. ‘Why? Missed me loads?’ He grins and bumps their shoulders together as he steps onto the road, nudging the hunter to start walking again. ‘I bet you didn’t even know I was gone. Is it just me you’re avoiding or the whole civilization thing?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Been out.’

‘I know you have been,’ Benjamin answers as they walk together. ‘It’s been nine days since I saw you, not that I’m counting or anything. Don’t look at me like that. I get it, and I’m awfully grateful for that deer meat you brought in the other day.’

‘You weren’t at Carol’s dinners,’ Daryl says with a glance at his friend.

‘I’m flattered you’d noticed. No, I had guard duty both times.’

‘Carol plans them when none of ours is on duty.’

Benjamin looks at him, ‘and yet I had guard duty. Does that mean she doesn’t consider me family or that I was playing Mr. nice guy by covering for someone who’d asked real nicely? Fifty bucks on the latter. Or a rabbit.’

Daryl sucks on his cigarette before throwing it into the curb.

‘Okay,’ the blond says as he hops onto the curb, balancing childishly as he walks along, wobbling every couple of steps. ‘What have you been up to? I’m not the only one sneaking out of the house apparently. Confess or I’ll tell Carol.’

‘Just seein’ Rick.’

‘Ah. Ella says he’s doing better. Steady heartbeat, she told me yesterday. His lungs are clearing up, too. So that’s good.’ Benjamin hops back down as they cross the street, cutting through a garden to end up at the blond’s back door. ‘Well, thank you for walking me home.’

Daryl scoffs but gives him a small smile. ‘Where are you goin’ on the next run?’

‘We’re, err’ the blond laughs and scratches at his sideburn, ‘we’re going north-ish for like an inch or so and then we’re going, err, left on the map, about five inches to… to a little dot Gerard put there with a marker.’

‘Thank God ya joined them.’

‘I honestly don’t know how they coped so long without my sense of direction,’ Benjamin nods.

‘At least you’re good with a knife,’ Daryl murmurs as he looks down at his feet, knocking them together to keep warm.

‘Was that an honest to God compliment? What a way to start a day!’

‘Don’t let it get to ya head,’ Daryl smirks back. He nods, ‘see ya later, I’m fixin’ to go out. Have to get my bow.’

Benjamin nods, ‘don’t forget to check one of the guns out too. Be safe. And hey,’ he reaches out just as Daryl wants to walk away. His hand on his forearm. ‘You’re okay, right?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Because I haven’t seen you for nine days and I wondered how you were. That’s usually why I ask such questions, Daryl.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Good. Well, I’m going to sneak upstairs and back into bed. Honestly, this feels a tiny bit like I’m back home and, you know, sixteen years old, sneaking back into bed before my parents found out that I was missing. No, to be really honestly honest; I once tried to sneak out to be all cool and stuff, nearly broke my neck while climbing out of the window. You know how you sometimes envision something: I’m going to climb out, jump down, stroll away like a bad-ass? It totally ended in me clutching to my windowsill, screaming for my father to save my sorry ass. Grounded for a week for trying.’

‘What the fuck,’ Daryl laughs. ‘Why didn’t ya just let go?’

‘The ground was much further away than I had anticipated.’

‘Jesus,’ Daryl says as he rubs a hand over his face to hide his amusement. ‘Your brain rattles like a BB in boxcar, now don’t it?’

‘Is that south for stupid?’

‘Yeah.’

Benjamin snorts, ‘soften the blow, why don’t you. But I guess I was pretty stupid _, don’t you dare say “_ was?”!’ He cries when Daryl opens his mouth. He yanks the hunter close and hugs him fiercely, smothering his own laughter in his neck.

Daryl grins into his skin, rubbing a hand over the lower back.

‘I’ll have you known that I was pretty clever in the old world. It’s not my fault that no one wants to discuss feminism in the modern American poetry anymore, or Marxism. I liked deconstructionism, wrote an essay on it for my Literature Three class. And when I applied for college? Felt like the best whore in all of the north, everyone wanted me.’ He stills, ‘that was... Forget I said that. Oh my God _. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day_? No, but a cheap whore of the north will do the trick, I’m clever like that. Fuck.’

Daryl laughs again, stepping out of the embrace.

Benjamin is blushing. ‘Okay. So, yeah, now that I’ve completely embarrassed myself, I will go back to bed and wake up pretending this never happened. I would like your cooperation with that, but seeing the way you’re smirking right now, that’s never going to happen.’

‘Damn straight.’

‘Great. So glad we had this early morning talk, let’s not do it again,’ the blond grins before turning on his heels and heading inside the house.

Daryl watches him go. Just before the door falls shut, he dashes forward to slip inside the house too. Benjamin glances over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

‘Forgot something,’ the hunter mutters before grabbing the other man’s hips and yanking him close. He smiles before dipping his head slightly, capturing those lips in a soft kiss.

Benjamin melts against him easily, looping his arms around his neck. ‘Forgot, hmm?’ He murmurs before claiming another kiss. ‘How can you forget _this_?’

‘I’m an idiot,’ Daryl answers as his hands slip beneath the younger man’s shirt, warming on the smooth skin of his sides.

‘You are,’ Benjamin nods before laughing and pecking him on his cheek, then on his beauty mark, and finding his lips again.

The kiss deepens when Daryl pushes him against the kitchen counter. Heat builds between their bodies. Benjamin sinks one hand in the dark hair and takes control of the kiss by rolling his hips and catching the hunter off guard. Daryl groans into his mouth, hands resting on the blond’s belt. Benjamin tugs at his lower lip with sharp teeth.

‘Guys, never stop.’

Daryl freezes.

Benjamin blinks.

They both turn their heads, hands still under each other’s shirts, to see Michonne sitting at the breakfast table. There’s a bowl of cereal in front of her, a jug of milk on the counter. She’s leering at them while shoveling the cereal into her mouth.

‘Good morning America,’ she laughs as she waves with her spoon. ‘Seriously, please continue.’

Benjamin lets his hand fall to his sides as he glances at Daryl to gauge his reaction.

The hunter narrows his eyes at the woman. ‘Get gone.’

She gestures to her breakfast and shrugs helplessly.

‘Ain’t got no hands no more now? No legs? Get gone, woman!’

‘I kind of like this view,’ Michonne smirks.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Benjamin says quickly, ‘I need to get some real sleep anyway and you wanted to go hunt. So, I guess I’ll see you later?’ He steps away from his friend and fidgets with the string of his hoodie.

‘Sure,’ Daryl mutters with a final glare at Michonne. He feels nervous, shy, horribly uncomfortable but still he tugs Benjamin close again, pecking him on the lips. ‘See you.’

Benjamin seems surprised. He blinks a little, gives him a sheepish smile before kissing him, once, quick and dry. ‘See you.’

Daryl kisses him, ‘yeah, see ya.’

The blond laughs and kisses him again, ‘see you.’

‘The cuteness is killing me, guys,’ Michonne comments dryly.

Daryl glares and blushes at the same time.

‘You could come upstairs,’ his friend tells him, ‘Mich won’t tell anyone.’

‘Only carol, Maggie, Tara, Sasha, and anyone who wants to hear,’ the dark-skinned woman grin. They all know she’s joking. She rises from her seat, tips the last of the milk into her open mouth before putting the bowl in the sink. ‘Say goodbye to your boy, Dixon. Don’t let me ruin this whole thing.’ A wriggle of her fingers and she’s gone, walking up the stairs to get to her bedroom.

‘She’s the worst,’ Benjamin moans, ‘she’s going to be _relentless_ now. How did you not see her when you snuck in?’

‘Had my eye on other things,’ Daryl drawls as he crowds his friend and slips one hand over hips, dipping below a belt to let his fingers brush over the curve of his ass.

‘You’re forgiven.’

‘Just like that?’

Benjamin grins, ‘you’ll make it up to me, I’m sure. It really will have to be another time, though. I’m dead on my feet. But not like… Rawr,’ he growls like a walker and Daryl cocks an amused eyebrow.

‘ _Rawr_? Really?’

‘Yup!’

Daryl laughs and pulls the other man close again, hugging him for a second before walking towards the door.

‘I got a hug,’ Benjamin muses. ‘You think I’m cute.’

‘Don’t,’ Daryl scoffs.

‘A tiny bit, though. You think I’m a tiny bit cute.’

‘You’re a grown-ass man, ya ain’t cute!’ Daryl throws over his shoulder.

‘Oh! _If you aren't cute, you may as well be clever_. David Sedaris.’ Benjamin laughs, ‘hell, I ain’t even mad right now.’

‘Clever? What happened to ya bein’ a hooker?’

‘Get out.’

Daryl snorts and opens the door.

‘Bye gorgeous. I love you.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

‘Oh my God! Don’t _yeah, yeah_ me when I tell you I love you! Honestly, you’re so rude. You’re rude and you don’t think I’m cute and I’m pretty sure you think I’m an idiot, too. This is terrible. My whole image, shattered. Tomorrow I’m going to a hundred push-ups on your lawn just to prove I’m half the badass you are, kay? I’m not though! You know that was a joke right? Daryl!’

‘I love ya,’ the hunter tells him just to shut him up.

Benjamin’s happy laughter is cut off when the door falls closed between them.

Daryl shakes his head and crosses the garden to get to his own back door. There are lights on in the kitchen when he slips inside. Sasha is sitting at the long table, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. There are bags under her eyes and her dark hair is mussed from sleep, wrapped in a messy bun low in her neck. She glances at him when he enters but her gaze snaps back to a box on the kitchen table almost immediately.

The hunter lingers near the door for a second. ‘How are ya?’

‘Fine,’ she says and tugs the blanket closer to her body. She’s terribly thin, malnourished after her sickbed. The brown eyes are empty.

Daryl hums under his breath and takes the seat opposite her. The legs of his chair scrape over the wood, thud as he puts it down forcefully and falling into it. He observes her from behind his bangs.

‘They brought us extra food.’

Daryl looks at the box on the end of the table. It’s filled with a couple cans of food, dried pasta and some fresh vegetables from the greenhouses. ‘Glenn had a good run yesterday,’ he nods. ‘And they got their own gardens and stuff.’

‘Batteries grow in gardens now?’ Sasha asks with a glance at him before she reaches into the box and throws a packet of batteries onto the table.

‘Solar power,’ Daryl says as he lets his chair tip back. ‘They charge them at the clinic.’

‘They don’t. I stayed at the clinic; people came in all the time to ask for batteries. They said they’re for the runners only. For their walkie-talkies and flashlights. Others have been cut from them. They said they were running low.’

‘So?’ Daryl asks. ‘Got the wrong box then, or they figured we would pass them on to Glenn.’

‘I just checked their delivery. They got batteries too.’

Daryl shrugs and tucks his hands under his arms.

She looks at him with narrowed eyes, ‘there’s something wrong with this place, Daryl. I’m telling you; something isn’t right.’

He sighs and lets his chair thud back onto all fours.

‘ _Daryl_.’

‘What?’ He snaps, ‘ya keep sayin’ that but ya only just woke up. We’ve been here for weeks now. We got food, we got walls. Ya basin’ this on the fact that they gave us fuckin’ _batteries_ , girl?’

‘They took our guns.’

‘But not our knifes. Not my bow and Michonne still got her katana. We check those guns out every single day, no problem. We didn’t let people walk around with guns at the prison, remember?’

‘Because most of them didn’t know what to do with them! We do!’

Daryl grits his teeth, ‘what? Ya want to leave? Rick ain’t better yet. And you can barely walk.’

She sighs and glares at him. ‘I’m _fine_.’

‘Look like shit.’

‘Thanks, Dixon.’ She shivers. ‘You can’t pretend that everything is all right. It’s not! Gabriel is out there, weaseling his way into this whole community with his damn prayers, pretending to be so much holier than us just because he used to serve the Lord. And they just lap it up. He holds a service every morning!’ She scoffs, ‘if they knew what he’d done…’

‘Ain’t nobody without sins anymore.’

She nods, ‘no, but at least we’re not pretending to earn God’s grace.  I’ve been to one of his services. Slipped in late, sat in the back yesterday. He preached about how the devil must be driven out, how it hides among us.’

Daryl narrows his eyes, ‘so?’

‘He’s talking about _us_ , Daryl!’

The hunter scoffs at that.

‘He called Benjamin the devil, once. False light, remember? Rick told us, Daryl. He said it! He hates Ben!’

‘I know that,’ he snaps back. ‘That doesn’t mean he’s setting us up. And what? Ya think they’re going to drive us out with pitchforks if they knew Ben’s fuckin’ pansexual? He’s part of the runnin’ team, now. Half of this town wants him in their beds, the other half is just glad he’s dating Tara rather than their damn wives.’

Dull, dark eyes regard him for a long moment. ‘They broke up.’

‘Who?’

Sasha rolls her eyes. ‘Ben and Tara. They split, not that they were ever together, but, yeah, they split up. Very publically, two days ago.’

Daryl frowns, ‘why? Thought they were running with that story.’

‘They were,’ Sasha nods, ‘but you can’t fake something like that for long. They decided to break up before rumors could start, bullshitted something about growing apart, had a fight about it on the town square the other day.’ She smirks, ‘people kept showing up with their chocolate and candy to console them, said they knew he-‘

‘Likes sweet things,’ Daryl finishes with a sigh. ‘Damn.’

‘Yeah. It wasn’t Tara’s idea,’ she says.

Daryl bites on his thumb, worries at the skin. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘You weren’t here.’

He glances up but can’t tell whether it’s an accusation or observation. The young woman just looks at him, face unreadable. ‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ he says. ‘Maybe Tara found someone. Or Ben did.’

She rolls her eyes again and slumps in her seat. ‘Oh, he found someone all right. A long time ago. Jesus, we’re not stupid, Daryl,’ she snaps when he frowns. ‘Put you two in a room together and just watch the fireworks.’

A muscle in Daryl’s jaw jumps as he clenches his teeth.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Sasha dismisses. ‘Who cares about who’s dating who. Listen, Daryl, please; I’m telling you. This place isn’t what it pretends to be, okay?’

‘This isn’t Terminus,’ Daryl snaps as he leans forward and taps on the table with his finger. ‘They gave ya meds, they saved your damn life, woman.’

‘What about Woodbury?’ Sasha asks. ‘They took me and Ty in, but it wasn’t a good place. You know it wasn’t!’ She cries when Daryl scoffs and stands up.

‘What do ya want me to do, huh?’ he asks angrily. ‘Rick’s still playin’ possum in a goddamn clinic, you and Rosita can’t walk two feet without collapsin’, Eugene still ain’t doin’ so hot. Judith and Carl need a fuckin’ roof, all right? They deserve some food that doesn’t come out of a damn can! They got food. They got walls. We’re stayin’!’

‘Daryl -‘

‘No,’ he growls. ‘You _want_ to see something that ain’t right. Hell, bring me proof and I’ll lead the way out, but ya’re chasin’ ghosts now, girl. Think I am keen on living here? That I _want_ to be here? Hell no. We ain’t in charge here, this isn’t ours, but we get to _take_ from them. Don’t ya get that? We get to take what we need and get charged a fuckin’ rabbit, a couple of hours work in greenhouses, on runs, shit we did anyway. And we need their stuff, okay? Rick needs it. You do. So we’re staying, get used to it.’ He gives her a final glare before walking away. The crossbow is on a hook near the front door. He grabs it on his way out.

The town wakes up around him. He nods to those who leave their houses to relieve the night’s watch. The guy at the armory already has his gun waiting for him, cleaned and loaded.

Several minutes later, the gates glide open for him.

‘Stay safe, Daryl!’

‘Watch your back, man.’

‘Shoot straight!’

Daryl glances back over his shoulder, to the men and women up on the landing who are waving at him. He lifts a hand and disappears between the trees. A couple of strides and then their voices have faded into the white noise of the forest. He walks and tries to drown in the wind and leaves and tracks. He decides not to see the looming shadows growing in his mind.

 

 


	11. Locked doors

 

* * *

 

 

It’s late when he returns from his hunt. Darkness is already setting in, hiding him in shadows. He whistles to get the gates to open for him, greeting the woman who guards it with a sniper rifle. There a man waiting to take his latest catch from him. His name is Remy. Daryl isn’t quite sure how he’d learned it, but he grunts out a greeting before tossing the rabbits and birds onto the table.

‘Thank you so much,’ Remy says. ‘The steady supply of fresh meat has done wonders for morale. There’s a party going on at the square. It’s Davis’ birthday today. You should go. I saw your family there on the way over.’

‘Hmm,’ Daryl nods at the game. ‘Make sure to skin them tonight.’

‘Of course,’ Remy answers with a small smile. ‘Thanks again.’

‘Ain’t nothin’,’ the hunter says before walking away.

The town square is lit by several fires. Small stacks of burning wood all around the watch tower. The warm light dances over the faces of the community. Children run between them, giving chase and laughing when they are being tagged. Carl is among them. The teenager is running after another, hooting when he manages to cut the other off and tag him. Then he slips around the corner, the chase reversed.

Several benches are occupied by the runners. Fit, young men with Xander in their midst. Benjamin is sitting at his right hand. The blond has his hoodie up, hiding the hair. He’s fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves, head bowed and almost swallowed by shadows. The men around him are rowdy. With bottles of moonshine in their hands, they tell stories and jokes, laughter exploding every once a while, but Benjamin doesn’t seem to join in the festivities.

Daryl frowns and starts to head over.

‘There he is!’ Raeanne appears before him. ‘Hey Daryl, come on, we saved you some dinner!’

‘Hey,’ he murmurs as he follows her to a barbeque in the corner. Maggie and Carol are there, faces lighting up when they see him. Davis is there too. He sits on an upturned crate, drinking a beer and eating something that looks like a rabbit’s leg.

‘Here you are,’ Raeanne passes him a plate and fork, ‘take what you like, you’re the one that shot it, after all.’ She laughs and disappears in the crowd again.

Daryl nods at Maggie and Carol before loading some food onto his plate. ‘Everything all right?’

Maggie nods, ‘this is the first surprise party I’ve been to since... well, everything. It’s great. Abe and Glenn are with the other girls. Michonne got Judy.’

‘Good,’ he says. He grabs a bottle of beer from a bucket with water and moves towards where Davis is sitting. When he passes Carol she puts a hand on his biceps, pulling him close for a second.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she whispers.

He frowns. ‘So talk.’

‘Not here,’ their heads are bend close together, cheeks brushing each other’s. ‘Meet me by the church at midnight, okay?’

‘Fine.’

Carol leans back and laughs, swatting at his arm playfully, ‘oh stop it,’ she giggles. Then she presses a kiss to her fingertips and taps him on the forehead with them. ‘That’s all you’re getting right now, move along, Pookie.'

The act is tiring, but he smirks back at her, saluting, before moving on.

Davis is watching them. He averts his gaze when Daryl meets his, setting his jaw as if preparing himself for another confrontation. They haven’t seen each other since the day Noah had died. The accusations still ring between them.

Daryl kicks another crate over and sits down beside the leader of Genesis. He cracks his beer open, ‘heard it was your birthday.’ He raises his bottle to the other man. ‘Many happy returns and all that shit.’

Davis eyes him for a moment before knocking their beers together, ‘thanks. Welcome to the great surprise party.’

‘Y’ar not enjoyin’ it?’ the hunter asks. He takes a gulp from his beer, letting the bitter taste swirl down his throat and pool in his stomach. Then he sets the bottle down next to his feet to shove some meat into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes scan the crowd.

‘I am.’

‘Y’ar lying like a no-legged dog,’ Daryl mutters. He catches glimpses of his family. Carl, who is now sitting at Michonne’s side, panting from his earlier shenanigans. Glenn and Abraham with Tara and Rosita, joined by Raeanne and a couple of people from down their street. They all seem to be having a great time.

Davis snorts and rubs at his forehead with the palm of his hand, ‘yeah, all right, ya got me. Bit bittersweet, ain’t it? We’re not even sure of the date but they always just guess which is anyone’s birthday. Another year. And we’ve got food, we got drinks and we don’t even know the fates of half of our friends and family. By now we just assume everyone’s dead.’

Daryl grunts as he chews on his food. He glances at Benjamin, who’s still sitting next to Xander. He’s not talking, not smiling, but he listens to the people around him, sometimes nodding in response. Someone aims a kick at his feet to get his attention. The man flinches before looking up and shaking his head.

‘We’ve lost a lot of people,’ Davis murmurs while he scratches at the label of his beer. ‘Those names on the side of the church? Shit, list is gettin’ longer with every surprise birthday party. Most of them are runners, the others don’t go outside of the walls much. Makes me feel like shit, sometimes, that I’m not out there with them, ya know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You ever feel like that?’ Davis glances at him. ‘I mean, I did the interviews, I know what you’ve done for your people, and you’re out there, but you’re not out there _with them_.’

Daryl shrugs, ‘when we lose people, yeah, I feel like shit for leavin’ them to it then. Doesn’t mean that things would’ve gone any different if I were with them. They’re good at what they do. Shit just happens. With or without me.’

Davis nods and swallow another gulp of beer.

‘When we lost Noah,’ Daryl bows his head to let his bangs fall into his face. He shrugs a little, licks his fingers before putting the plate aside. ‘Felt like shit then. First day out, was just glad to be out there, mindin’ my own business, came back and he was just gone. Was havin’ a good time while he died. Thought maybe I could have done something. That it was on me. What is it they say? God’s punishment is swift and sure? Felt like that.’

‘Because ya were havin’ a good time?’

‘Yeah. Took it out on you,’ he says as he digs the toe of his boot into the earth and twists his foot, digging a little hole. ‘Shouldn’t have.’

It’s as much as an apology the other man will ever get. And it’s more than he’d expected. Davis’ eyebrows shoot up for a second, the surprise clear on his face.

‘Ya’re right, shit just happens,’ the leader of Genesis says softly as he looks out over the party again. ‘Still sorry, though. It was a good kid. We wrote his name on the church so he won’t be forgotten.’

The hunter grunts.

‘You know what happened to your family?’ Davis asks and then frowns, ‘from before I mean.’

‘No.’

‘Don’t care or don’t want to tell?’

Daryl looks at the other man. ‘Both.’

‘Fair enough.’ Davis taps against the glass bottle with his nails. ‘I’ve got Xan, of course. Blessed to still have him. Our parents died a couple of years ago. Rae’s got a sister in New York. Four years older. Don’t reckon she made it out of that mess. Hardly anyone did.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl grabs his own beer, ‘reckon not.’

‘Rae doesn’t want to talk about her. Maybe that’s for the best, ya know? Keeps her alive, in a way, with us. Shit.’ He rubs at the side of his head. ‘Or maybe I’m just too much of a fuckin’ coward. What do you say to someone when their sister is dead? I’m sorry? Fuck. Ain’t enough, man.’

‘No. It ain’t,’ Daryl murmurs as he looks at Benjamin. The younger man has moved to a spot on the floor. He’s leaning back against Xander’s legs and talks to a woman Daryl recognizes from their welcome party. The girl with the dark hair and empty eyes. She’s smiling now. Benjamin grins at her until Xander clips him across the back of his head, causing the blond to look up and say something to the runner. Xander pulls a face but dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

‘You lost your brother, right? Told me he was six feet under.’

‘Hmm-hmm.’

‘Before or after?’

‘After.’

‘By roamers?’

‘He was eatin’ a man’s intestines when I found him, so I reckon so. Gotta piss, enjoy your birthday, man,’ he says before pushing himself away from his seat. He takes a swing from his bottle while walking over to the rest of his little family.

Michonne greets him with one of her rare smiles. ‘Hey stranger.’

‘Ya all right?’ he asks when he falls down next to her.

Judith squeals at the sight of him and reaches out with grabby hands.

‘Hey little lady,’ Daryl laughs as he takes the girl from her baby sitter. ‘Watcha doin’ up so late, huh? Got them wrapped ‘round ya pinky, hmm?’

Michonne smiles at the pair of them, ‘she has missed you.’

‘That so, huh?’ Daryl kisses her chubby cheek and pulls a face, causing the little girl to shriek with joy, trying to grab at his long hair.

‘Stop being adorable. Your not-so-secret admirer looks about ready to jump you,’ the dark-skinned woman comments idly while leaning on her elbows.

Daryl looks up and catches Benjamin’s eye. The blond man is looking at him with a small smile on his face. He’s biting his thumb, a move so familiar that it shocks Daryl a bit to see someone else do it. Green eyes are just glimmers under his hood and in the shadows.

‘He hasn’t been home in days,’ Michonne says softly. ‘This is the first time anyone of us has seen him in a week.’

‘He’s a runner now,’ Daryl answers before kissing Judith’s blond hair and letting her rest against his chest.

‘So is Glenn, but he’s home every night.’

Daryl glances at her, ‘so give him a goddamn curfew then, if ya want him home so fuckin’ bad.’

Michonne reaches over and places her hands over Judith’s ears, ‘excuse yourself! She doesn’t need to learn that kind of language. And no, I just thought you might wanted a heads-up. People are starting to notice, Dixon. Send him back to his own bed every once a while if you want to keep that pretend-show going.’

‘What?’ the hunter blinks as he processes that. ‘He ain’t-‘ he blushes and leans closer, hissing the words between them, ‘he ain’t in my bed, okay?’

‘Right,’ Michonne rolls her eyes and takes Judith back. She bounces the kid on her knee and talks to her in a high voice, ‘and we’re all just stupid, huh, Jude? Uncle Daryl’s a big fat liar, isn’t he? Yes, yes he is, sweet cheeks.’

‘ _He ain’t in my bed_!’

An elegant eyebrow is raised, ‘then where is he every day and night?’

‘How the fuck am I supposed to know?’

She looks at him pointedly.

‘Fuck this,’ he growls before standing up again. ‘I’ve gotta meet Carol some place.’

‘Really? That’s the story you’re going with? _Carol_?’

‘Yeah, and ya better stick to it,’ Daryl answers as he points a finger in her face. ‘Stop pokin’ yar nose where it doesn’t belong, all right?’

‘What?’ she leers at him, ‘like in Benjamin’s business?’

‘I’m warnin’ ya.’

‘And I’ll never be scared of you, Dixon.’

He feels the grin break before he can even think about allowing his amusement to show. He nods at Judith, ‘keep her out of trouble, now.’

Michonne wiggles her eyebrows a little, ‘or maybe she’ll get me into some. You run along and meet _Carol_ now.’

 

A couple of minutes later he walks a lap around the church, smoking a cigarette. He finds the names on the side. Stark, black letters which spell out the names of those who have died since the beginning of Genesis. The list isn’t that long, to be fair. Daryl reckons that one such list on the prison walls would have been much longer.

The paint of Noah’s name has dried a long time ago, but the clear evidence of their lost friend causes him to feel uneasy.

Another one gone.

Maybe they wouldn’t have lost him if they had stayed out on the road, stuck to Rick’s plan of making it to the army base.

Or maybe there wouldn’t have been anyone left to write his name down, to remember him at all.

He wonders how many more names will be added to this list. Whether one day his own will be black on white in this town.

‘Hey Pookie.’ Carol appears around the corner, silver hair glistering like it’s wet under the moonlight.

‘Hey,’ he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, ending it with the heel of his boot because he knows she hates the smell.

She sits down on the steps of the church, patting the spot beside her. He sits down too. They’re quiet for a while. Out in the distance, down the road, they can see the silhouettes of their family and new community. She sighs and leans against him, nudging his shoulder a bit.

He smiles at her and drapes his arm over her shoulders, tucking her close. Her head on his shoulder, her hair prickling his neck.

‘How are you?’ she asks.

‘Fine. You?’

‘Fine.’

He bites on his thumb. ‘And the rest?’

Carol sighs again, ‘Sasha is convinced there is something wrong with this place.’

‘Is there?’

‘I’m not sure.’ That worries him. A coldness drops into the pit of his stomach at the words. ‘There is something odd going on,’ she continuous. ‘It’s – I don’t know. Maybe it’s just too good to be true.’

He nods and worries on his lower lip, plucking at it. ‘Maybe.’

‘How’s Benjamin?’

He pulls his arm away, ‘why the fuck does everyone keep askin’ _me_? I don’t know, all right? Haven’t spoken to him since last week.’

‘Don’t do this,’ she pulls at his hand until he curls his arm around her shoulders again. ‘Of course we ask _you_.’

Daryl sets his jaw and gives a jerky nod before looking away. ‘You know we ain’t like that no more.’

Carol shoot shim a smile, ‘the first time we met, you wouldn’t even look at me. Too occupied with minding your own business, focused on just getting your job done and keeping Merle in check. Then the attack on camp and you watched how I bashed Ed’s skull in. Then we lost Sophia and you gave me a Cherokee rose. The winter, the prison, Woodbury, Terminus. And then you hugged me without thinking about it.’

‘So?’ he asks because he doesn’t understand what that’s got to do with anything.

She puts a hand on his knee, ‘the first time you met Rick, you wanted to rip him up. Then at the CDC, again, you wanted to feed him to the geeks for seemingly making the wrong call. Then winter, the farm, prison, Woodbury. You left him but you came back. The fall of the prison. The road to Terminus. All of that before you started to refer to Rick as your brother.’

‘Fuck’s got that to do with Benji?’

‘Because his track record is _the library_. How long were we there for? Two months? Three? One season, at the most.’

Daryl grunts his understanding. ‘Hell, I ain’t the one hung up about this. It’s over. Didn’t mean nothing anyway, you’re right.’

 She leans away from him and laughs. ‘Didn’t mean – Daryl. That’s not what I mean. Why are you two doing this to yourselves? I see you. I see him. You’re both miserable without the other.’

‘Ya know why.’

‘Because you think we’d be safer.’ She shakes her head, ‘they’re weak. None of them know what it takes to survive out there. Those runners pretend to know, but they’re kids, playing pretend. This place could be ours. Why should we fear them?’

‘They’re like walkers,’ Daryl says. ‘One or two of them ain’t no problem, but they got the numbers. And they got Rick.’

Carol nods. ‘So we just wait until he’s better or… we wait until we can leave, pack up our things and just walk out of here?’

‘Maybe.’ Daryl bites on his thumb again. ‘Maybe we should stay.’

‘Nobody wants to be here.’

‘They got food, defenses, where are we going – ‘

‘You’re not around, you don’t hear what they call Glenn behind his back. They’ve spared Gabriel because he pretends to be so much holier than us all, but Sasha? Michonne? One of the men at the parlor refused to give Glenn a gun when they went out for a run, said he couldn’t be trusted with it!’

Daryl frowns, ‘what?’

‘I’m not saying it’s all of them,’ Carol says with a nod at the community, ‘but some would rather not see Glenn come back from those runs.’

‘God damn,’ the hunter mutters as he wipes at his eyes.

‘What are they going to do when they find out about Benjamin and you?’

‘They’re not goin’ to find out.’

‘Gabriel might-‘

‘Gabriel doesn’t know shit,’ Daryl snaps. ‘Thinks Benji got it bad, but doesn’t know… He doesn’t _know_ , okay?’

‘If he knows Benjamin loves you then-‘

Loud voices cause her to stop talking. A large group is walking down the road, young men and a couple of women, far too loud, voices ringing out due to moonshine and friendship. Arms looped around necks, laughter when they ride each other’s backs. Someone is taken down with a mean tackle, a heap of flailing limbs as two men wrestle on someone else’s lawn.

‘Speaking of the devil,’ Carol says with a small smile as they spot Benjamin among the men. He’s walking next to Xander. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders hunched as he walks, but Xander has draped an arm around his neck.

Green eyes find blue ones.

Benjamin jerks out of Xander’s half-embrace. He stumbles a bit from the sudden move and throws something over his shoulder before jogging over to Daryl and Carol.

‘I’ll see you inside,’ Carol smiles before kissing Daryl’s forehead. When she passes Benjamin on the lawn, he wraps his arms around her and twirls her around for a second before hugging her fiercely.

‘Hey Carry,’ he laughs into her neck, ‘how’s our man been treating you then? You all right?’

‘Yeah,’ she says when he puts her down again. ‘You,’ she pokes at his chest, ‘on the other hand, have been neglecting us. You should _– what happened to you_?’

‘Nothing, nothing,’ Benjamin dismisses hastily. ‘I’ll come by more, okay? It’s just – we’ll talk later. I need to talk to Daryl about something real quick.’

‘Okay,’ Carol says slowly before throwing a worried look at the hunter. ‘See you two later, then.’

‘Bye, love you,’ Benjamin says easily as he slips past her to get to his other friend.

Daryl bows his head and takes his package of cigarettes out. ‘What do ya want?’

‘Just walking our secret dog,’ Benjamin tries to joke as he stuffs his hands into his pocket again, wobbling a little on the balls of his feet. ‘Listen, I don’t have a lot of time. The boys are waiting for me.’

‘They’re your boys now?’ Daryl scoffs before glancing up. He freezes.

There’s a bruise on Benjamin’s skin. Right around his left eye, fading green’s and purple’s, almost black in the near-darkness. It’s big but probably already a couple of days old. The edges are yellow and fading into his pale skin.

‘The fuck happened to your face?’

‘Walked into a fist. Listen, I need to turn up at this party, it’s a runners thing but afterwards would it be okay if-‘

Daryl bats the hoodie down and grabs at Benjamin’s chin, forcing the guy to look up so he can see the bruise better. ‘The fuck you mean; walked into a damn fist?’

Benjamin flinches. ‘What? Just a dumb mistake. We had too much to drink and my mouth got me in trouble. That’s not really that surprising, now is it? It’s nothing. Listen, I was wondering if-‘

‘Who fuckin’ touched you?’ Daryl demands angrily.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ the blond snaps back. ‘Jesus. I don’t have time, okay? It’s _nothing_ , Daryl. Just an honest mistake. What the fuck do you think I am? Some helpless little lady who keeps walking into cupboards and falling down the stairs? That’s the cliché, right?’

Daryl narrows his eyes. ‘How the fuck would I know?’

‘I didn’t mean-‘

The hunter scoffs and puts the cigarette between his lips before searching for his lighter. He flips it open, smoke rising between them.

‘Seven minutes,’ Benjamin says automatically but disregards it with a shake of his head. ‘Okay, fine, whatever. _Listen_. You can say no, okay, but can you keep your door unlocked tonight?’

‘Why?’

Benjamin looks over his shoulder at where the rest of the runners are waiting for him. ‘I just – can I come over, after the party? Not for – I mean, you won’t have to stay up or anything, but can I just chill at your place for a bit? Don’t want to wake the whole house up when I get back and everything. Don’t want to wake Judith.’

It’s a pathetic excuse and Daryl snorts.

The blond scowls at him. ‘Fine. Never mind. Forget I asked.’

‘People are gossipin’.’ Daryl tells him. ‘They know ya ain’t never home. Think ya’re in my bed or somethin’.’

‘I wish,’ Benjamin mutters as he looks over his shoulder again. ‘Look, the other time might have been a mistake. Not a _mistake_ , God, what am I saying, it was brilliant, but if we’ve broken up, the timing might have been weird, just…’ He sighs and looks at Daryl. ‘Everyone’s up in my business at the house and you are never there so everyone’s all over me for everything. Where’s Daryl? What do you think Daryl would do with…? What does Daryl think of….? And I don’t know, okay? I don’t know and I’m fucking _tired_ and I just want to sit and _be_ for a minute, okay?’

Daryl sucks on his cigarette and observes his friend.

The bruise, the bags under his eyes, how skinny he seems.

‘I wasn’t asking because of anything sexual, hell, I’m not asking to sleep in your damn bed, okay? It’s just… I wanted to come by because, God help me, I’m tired of talking to everyone out here because it’s fake and it’s not _me_ and if I have to pretend to be some dumb, perky college bitch for one more second, I’m going to fucking murder someone.’

Daryl smirks and lets the smoke roll over his lips.

‘Fuck this,’ Benjamin mutters as he pulls the hoodie back over his blond hair. It’s a rare moment of misunderstanding between them. ‘Fine, never mind. See you around then.’

‘See ya,’ Daryl nods. He flicks some ash onto the grass. ‘And hey,’ he says when Benjamin turns on his heels. ‘I never lock my door.’

Benjamin stills, looks at him with suspicious eyes. ‘And if I come in, I’m not going to be nailed to your door by a bolt?’

‘Try to touch me in my sleep and there’ll be a knife in your damn eye. Ya told me not to stay up.’

‘Right,’ Benjamin gives him a small smile. ‘I promise to be quiet. And I’ll mop my drool up before I sneak back into my own bedroom.’

‘Ya better.’

They look at each other for a moment.

But then Xander yells for the blond and the others hoot and leer, telling him to hurry the hell up or they’ll leave his ass behind.

Benjamin smiles, wide and honest before turning on his heel and running back to the runners.

‘Shut up,’ he laughs as he joins them, but the smile fades when Xander loops an arm around his shoulders again and whispers something in his ear.

Daryl watches and smokes and makes sure his door isn’t locked at night.

 

 


	12. Safety nets

 

* * *

 

 

The night-time visits continue over the next week.

Sometimes Daryl wakes up in the morning to find his bedroom empty, not a trace of the other man, but he still knows in his bones that he’d been there.

Other nights, Daryl wakes up because he hears someone sneaking up the stairs. Silent footfalls of sock-clad feet until his bedroom door slides open and Benjamin enters. He sits against the wall, facing the bed where Daryl pretends to sleep. He often brings a book. The pages flip in a steady rhythm. Benjamin whispers the stories to himself, lulling Daryl to sleep with someone else’s adventures. He wakes to king and queens, to knights of old or future worlds. Complicated verses of poetry spilling from pale lips in the dark, the tongue curling around foreign names with practiced ease.

Other times he tells Daryl about his childhood. The time his parents took him to see the grand canyon, about how he misses his sister, how he’d once traveled all the way to Japan and spend his first night there eating at McDonalds. How he’d been to a summer camp once when he was young and had cried all day because it was the first time he’d been away from home for his birthday. About his first job, first day at school. How he’d once starred in a play and had forgotten his lines even though that should have been impossible with his brain.

He tells Daryl about the stories he’d told the runners and then tells Daryl how it had really happened. That the girl had been a boy instead, that his parents had been the happiest couple ever to walk the earth, how his childhood had been so perfect it now makes him sick. That his sister had been fearless. That he’d never been allowed a pet but got to look after a friend’s rabbit once.

He tells Daryl about how Xander had tried to make his own moonshine but had fucked up and wasted precious supplies. How Carl was bugging him about never being home, even giving him the silent treatment when the younger boy had found out that he had been hanging out with the runners instead of him. How Glenn kept trying to corner him to have a conversation about something. How Carol won’t leave him alone. How Maggie looks at him with sad eyes and a heavy heart.

He tells about the parties Xander throws. How it’s all so obnoxious, how the runners think they’re so much better than everyone else because they go outside the walls. How Xander knows how to shoot and kill, but the others are clumsy with their knives, scared of the walkers and their rotting teeth.

Some nights, Benjamin doesn’t talk. He just sits there, breathing deeply as if trying to calm himself. Daryl can hear him fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie, his teeth clicking together when he bites on the white strings of his hood. He cleans his knife sometimes, or his gun, in the dark. The moves so ingrained in his fiber that he doesn’t need the moonlight to guide his fingers.

One night, when Daryl almost sleeps, Benjamin lists their names.

Slowly. With deep breaths between the names. His voice shakes.

‘Glenn and Maggie. Carol. Michonne. Carl. Abe. Rose. Eugene. Sasha. Rick. Tara. Judith.’

Pale hands in blond hair, pulling, teeth gritted together in the dark. Daryl looks at him through his lashes. He thinks about reaching out, about taking those hands in his, about leading him to the warm bed, just hold him until he stops looking so unhappy and destroyed.

But he doesn’t.

‘Daryl,’ Benjamin breathes the last name. Nails digging into his own skin. ‘Daryl, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl.’

It sounds like a prayer.

 

 

Later, Daryl walks into an impromptu family gathering. They weren’t expecting him home, he knows it by the way Glenn rises from his seat, eyes wary, and Carol just looks at him, like she has nothing to hide. Tara blushes fiercely.

It’s raining outside. He’d been chased back into the community by the howling wind and biting cold. It’s no use to hunt when all the game is hiding in their little holes. His snares had been empty. The tracks washed away.

And with all the whispers and snipes about him being away, he’d decided to head home early. It’s not even midday when he finds his own home empty. Normally, Eugene is reading on the couch, often joined by Rosita and Tara, but now they were nowhere to be found. He’d changed into something dry and warm.

Right now, he’s still rubbing a towel through his dark hair as he stands on the threshold of the second house. Everyone is gathered in the living room. Some sit on the floor, leaning against legs of friends, comforted by each other’s presence.

Carl is missing. Maybe he’d been send on an errand, or maybe he finally took one of the other teenagers up on their offers of videogames and comics.

Benjamin isn’t there either. And neither is Sasha.

‘Daryl…’ Maggie starts but stops, not quite knowing what to say.

‘I’ll make you some tea,’ Carol says as she gets up and moves towards the kitchen.

‘Thanks,’ he answers with a nod. His hands are still cold. He tucks them under his arms for now. ‘Go on,’ he nods at Glenn.

‘With what?’ Glenn tries to sound nonchalant but he lost that ability a long time ago.

‘Havin’ yar council meeting,’ Daryl says as he leans back against the kitchen table. Dark eyes on his brother. The gaze flickers to the rest for just a second before resting on the Korean again. ‘Nervous as long-tailed cats in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs, all y’all are. What? I weren’t invited?’

‘You would have been if you were here to invite,’ Michonne pipes up with a glare.

He narrows his eyes at her. ‘Liked that deer meat, did ya? Spend two days trackin’ it, but I bagged it and hauled it back for ya and now ya’re sayin’ I should have been here, holdin’ ya damn hand or something?’

‘You want me to kiss your ass every time you bring home road kill?’ Michonne tilts her chin up.

‘At least I’m not hidin’ behind no walls,’ Daryl smirks.

‘Don’t pretend you’re not hiding too. You had a big mouth back at the prison, telling me to stop leaving. Fell from your own religion, Dixon?’

‘At least I’m doin’ something _useful_. Ya can’t track for shit but ya still went after him! Chasin’ ya own tail like some dumb city slicker, pretendin’ ya belong out there. Pssh.’

‘At least I didn’t give up!’

The accusation hangs heavily in the air. Daryl slowly uncurls, pushes himself away from the table to stalk over to his friend. Measured steps, silent but for the rustling of his clothing. Fingers inch towards the hunting knife on his belt.

Michonne slowly rises too. The katana blinking on her back.

The door bursts open and Benjamin shuts it behind him. The blond hair is soaked. He’s wearing a leather jacket, black and gleaming, which seem mostly watertight. He squats down to tug at the laces of his army boots.

Michonne raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ!’ Benjamin falls over onto his hip as his body jerks with shock. The head whips up, green eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. ‘Damn, Mich! What the fuck are you all doing here? I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.’

‘How are you still alive?’ the woman asks, sounding genuinely curious. ‘I’ve seen you kill a dozen of walkers, run, climb, hell I saw you climb into that warehouse via a drainpipe like some damn spider monkey. And eight people lounging in your living room _sneak up on you_?’

‘Well,’ Benjamin says as he straightens again. ‘I wasn’t exactly in my terminator mode, seeing as I was walking into my living room and not a walker invested hellhole. Jesus, my poor heart. What are you all doing here, anyway? Everyone called in a sickie?’ He kicks his boots to the side and pads into the living room. The green gaze sweeps over his family, once, then again to be sure. ‘Hey gorgeous,’ he says softly, leaning up to press a kiss to Daryl’s cheek before walking over to Carol. ‘You’re making tea? Can I have some too?’

‘Yes, you _may_ ,’ Carol nods and Benjamin leers at her.

‘Did you just passive-aggressively correct my grammar?’

‘I did.’

‘I love you.’ She laughs and passes him a mug. She carries Daryl’s back to him while Benjamin follows her. ‘My mom used to do that all the time when I was little,’ he says. ‘Can I have a cookie? _I’m sure you can and you may as well_ ,’ he parrots in a higher voice. ‘She was the kind of person who didn’t care much about what I said, as long as I said it politely.’

Daryl snorts as he accept the cup and wraps his hands around it, leaning back against the kitchen table again. The blond man takes his place right next to him. Shoulder to shoulder as Benjamin slides onto the table, feet dangling as he kicks them lightly.

‘Where have you been?’ Glenn asks.

‘Out,’ Benjamin mutters as he blows into his cup. ‘What? Did I need to ask your permission or something?’

‘Carl was looking for you this morning. Your room was empty.’

‘I’m sorry I missed him.’

Glenn folds his arms in front of his chest, ‘yeah, right.’

Benjamin arches an eyebrow, ‘just spit it out, Glenn. You’re obviously dying to say something.’

‘Were you at Xander’s?’

‘No.’

Maggie sighs and reaches for her husband, ‘Glenn-‘

‘I know you weren’t at Daryl’s either,’ the Korean says, ignoring the woman, ‘because I was at his house all night and you didn’t go up those steps, man! So where were you? You’re always out, man, doing God knows what at God knows who’s place.’

Daryl glances at his friend. Benjamin is watching Glenn from over the rim of his mug. Then he glances down, blows once more and takes a swallow, pulling a face at the heat rushing down his throat. The gaze snaps back to Glenn. ‘Do I need to dignify that with an actual response?’

‘You need to tell me where you were,’ Glenn says through clenched teeth.

‘Benjamin, please do tell us where you’ve been because we’ve missed you terribly,’ Benjamin says, ‘oh why, Glenn, of course I’ll tell you. As you might remember; we had dinner together last night and afterwards I said; no, I can’t join the poker night at Abe’s, because I have _guard duty_.’

‘You’re a runner, we don’t have guard duty!’

The blond rolls his eyes, ‘Linda asked me to take her shift.’

‘And that’s just real convenient, huh,’ Glenn sneers. ‘You always being so _nice_.’

‘Yeah, because it can’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that Linda is the one who charges the batteries and charged me a couple off the books because I was so damn nice to take her shift at the guard tower. And that wouldn’t be the reason why Carl came to see me this morning, now would it? What would a teenager with a new Gameboy need charged batteries for?’ He rummages in his pocket and slams a couple of batteries down on the table. ‘And before you start, I came home from my guard duty to have breakfast with your wife. She felt ill this morning so I offered to do her chores at the greenhouses today. Cover for her because I’m so damn _nice_. You’re welcome, by the way.’

Glenn looks at Maggie.

She nods.

‘Well,’ Benjamin sighs, ‘that was unnecessary. God, I hope you weren’t holding a damn family meeting to discuss _that_. And for future reference; if I’ve finally managed to con my way into Daryl’s bed, you will all fucking know by the terribly smug smile on my face, okay? Or that swagger that totally screams; I just got some. Or maybe I’ll hold a town meeting and rub it in everyone’s faces.’

‘Good lord,’ Daryl mutters and takes a sip from his tea to hide a starting grin.

‘What? You know it’s true,’ his friend smirks even though they both know it’s not. ‘And Gabriel is not here. I’m getting real tired of this pretending bullshit. Anyway, why did you call this meeting, to which I _clearly_ wasn’t invited.’

Michonne groans and glances at Daryl, ‘you two deserve each other. You weren’t around,’ she tells the blond.

‘It’s Sasha,’ Carol cuts in before another argument can start.

Daryl looks at Glenn.

‘She got in trouble,’ the Korean sighs. ‘She had a gun on her while walking through town.’

Benjamin frowns, ‘had she been outside?’

‘Negative,’ Eugene answers. ‘She’s not fit to go outside of the protection those walls provide.’

Daryl hums, ‘snuck it, then?’

‘Yeah,’ Glenn nods. ‘took it while the guy on watch was going to the bathroom.’

The hunter snorts, ‘damn, couldn’t man up and hold out for five seconds until his shift ended? Pussy. One of us had done somethin’ stupid like that, we’d been be fuckin’ flayed by Rick.’

‘Or you,’ Michonne smirks.

‘It’s inside the walls, they’re not as careful,’ Glenn starts.

‘They’re not careful anywhere,’ Daryl bites back, ‘If Abe hadn’t checked the wall thoroughly, they’d never have known about that rotting part. It’s fuckin’ _wood_. ‘course it rots, man. They’re useless, all of them. Far too busy prancing around with their parties and birthdays and fuck knows what else to do what needs to be done.’ Benjamin puts his mug down and shrugs out of his leather jacket. He puts a warm hand on Daryl’s lower back. Fingers splayed, not moving but just resting there. ‘The wall’s the only thing between us and them walkers,’ Daryl says after a glance at his friend.

‘I know,’ Benjamin smiles. ‘And Abe had our back.’

‘Damn right I did,’ Abraham nods as he stretches out and plants his feet on the coffee table with a bang.

Carol lifts an eyebrow.

Abraham removes his feet.

‘ _Okay_ ,’ Glenn says, cutting through the giggles from Tara and Rosita. ‘Someone saw, reported it to Davis. They came to get me, I smoothed it over, said it was a mistake, a misunderstanding.’

‘So what’s the problem?’ Benjamin asks as he takes his hand away from Daryl’s back to lean on it.

Glenn reaches down to the floor, into his bag and takes a package out. Folded into two towels are four guns. Black, gleaming and so familiar that it causes Daryl’s breath to hitch a little. It’s Carl’s gun. Glenn’s. Maggie’s and Carol’s. Their handguns, the ones they have carried since the farm went up in flames. Chosen for them by fate, maybe, because they never switched those guns around, keeping them strapped to their sides, belts, to their thighs.

‘She had her own on her when they caught her,’ Glenn says.

Tara shrugs, ‘so? We can just bring those back.’

‘And get her in more trouble?’

Tara purses her lips, ‘well, she’s in trouble for stealing a gun. Would she be in more trouble for stealing more guns? She swiped them all in one go, who cares about how many she took?’

‘ _Davis_ cares,’ Glenn tells her. ‘He was mad, all right? Talked about what happens if we can’t even trust the people inside these walls.’

‘He wants her out?’ Daryl asks. He tenses.

‘No. It was her first offense, she has to do community service.’

The hunter snorts, ‘throw back, much? Rick would have loved that.’

‘It’s part of the system we’re setting up,’ Maggie says. ‘We’re trying to get a police force going. Some kind of Justice system.’

‘And what?’ He bounces back, ‘punish people for protecting themselves? For not being a dumb fuck and walking around with God’s protection? Some of these people don’t even carry knives! What happens if this place gets overrun? They didn’t even notice their precious wall had weakened. If they keep thinking like this, it won’t hold.’

Benjamin sighs, ‘that’s a problem for another time. What are we going to do about those guns? Sneak them back?’

Carol looks up, ‘why would we give them back? They’re ours. We might need them.’

‘Need them?’ The blond echoes. ‘Yeah, when we go outside, but here? I thought you all wanted us to give this a shot. And not with a damn gun, I mean!’

‘Just because you’re cozying up to these people,’ Rosita scoff. ‘Sasha isn’t crazy. There’s something wrong here.’

‘What is?’ Benjamin demands. ‘The fact that you have a roof over your head, food in your stomach, that they gave you the meds you needed? This place is secure. The people might be naïve, they might be stupid, but most of them are not bad people.’

‘ _Most of them_?’ Carol asks with narrowed eyes.

The blond blinks, kicks his feet a little and cocks his head to the side. ‘I saw a guy trying to light a fire by using pages of a book. I’d say that is a first offence, right there.’ He smirks at Maggie.

‘Ben,’ Carol sighs.

‘What? Tell me what’s wrong then!’

‘It’s _fake_!’ Carol snarls back. ‘Davis acts like he’s in charge, but Xander is running this show. It’s not about sharing, it’s about owing people. He collects debts. He makes people owe him stuff by using his position as a runner. And that group of friends of yours? They’re his puppets.’

‘So? We go out there every single day, risking our lives to get you stuff you want. Least you can do is make us some food when we come home, keep this place running while we’re out.’

‘We’re your servants now?’ Rosita asks with a sour face.

‘And we’re yours,’ Benjamin answers. ‘We’re the errand boys here.’

‘Oh come on,’ Carol scoffs. ‘Think I don’t know what’s going on out there? I’ve met Tina.’

Benjamin opens his mouth but closes it again with a snap of his teeth. He sets his jaw.

‘Tina?’ Abraham asks with raised eyebrows.

‘The girl that’s with the runners,’ Carol tells him. ‘Tall, with dark hair, pale complexion. She must have been beautiful.’

Daryl knows she’s talking about the girl he’d seen at their welcome party. Sandwiched between the guys with empty eyes and fake smile on her face.

‘Still is,’ the blond mutters as he plucks at his jeans.

‘After what they did to her?’ Carol challenges. ‘They broke her. They are breaking her.’

‘No,’ Benjamin hops down from the table, ‘she’s taken up a job at the pantry. She’s not with them anymore.’

Daryl frowns, ‘what the fuck’s going on?’

Carol gives him a joyless smile. ‘That girl? It was like looking in the mirror. Or it would have been if I’d looked in it a year ago.’

Something cold settles in Daryl’s chest. There’s confusion still on Abraham’s face, Rosita and Tara glance at each other and shrug a little, but Glenn pales and Daryl doesn’t know what to say. He looks at Benjamin, his movements jerky with sudden anger.

Benjamin’s left hand is curled into a fist. It shakes. ‘She has taken a job at the pantry,’ he repeats stiffly. ‘I got her that job, okay? I got her out and I’m sorry that I wasn’t here before but I’m here now and I got her out of that group!’

‘And you’re in it now.’

‘Yeah, and we don’t owe anyone any debts, so stop this paranoid bullshit already. Give me the guns and I’ll sneak them back into lock-up.’ He walks over to Glenn and holds out his hands.

The Korean hesitates.

‘Glenn. Give them to me.’

‘No,’ Carol says, standing up too. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

‘What?’ the blond asks with a laugh. ‘Distract someone with my usual shenanigans? Hang around until they take another pee-break? Trust me, I can do this, despite you all thinking I’m some sort of blundering idiot.’

‘No one thinks that.’

‘Then give me the guns!’

Maggie glances at her husband, ‘I can maybe do something. Change the books. Make them disappear entirely, then they won’t even know that they’re missing.’

Glenn nods quickly, ‘that sounds like-‘

‘Are you kidding me?’ Benjamin breathes. ‘I haven’t been putting in all this work to –‘ He bites back the rest of that sentence and starts again. ‘They will know. They’ll find out.’

‘Not everyone’s got a photographic memory,’ Maggie counters. ‘Hardly anyone knows how many guns there are supposed to be in that room. It’s all in the book, so if we change that, they won’t know they’re gone!’

‘And we’re going to do what with them, exactly?’

‘Nothing!’ Maggie answers quickly. ‘It’s just for – it’s – it’s like an insurance, okay? A safety net.’

‘Yeah, ‘cause four guns against eighty people are going to make a world of difference. Hell, we can go out with a fucking bang! Jesus. I’ve been working _so_ hard to make this community love us. I’ve got blisters on my tongue and my face is starting to fucking split from all the damn smiles I’m throwing at everyone and you’re going to risk it all for a _safety net?_ ’

‘Benjamin,’ Carol says softly. ‘I know.’

The blond looks at her, his green eyes narrowed.

‘I _know_ ,’ she repeats.

Silence rings out between them. Carol reaches out for him but her hand goes to the bottom of his shirt instead of his shoulder.

Benjamin pales and backs away.

‘We all know that you’ve put in a lot of effort.’ Glenn says with a wary look on his face. He hasn’t caught the movement. ‘They all love you. When you broke up with Tara? The stream of candy, cakes, pies and dinners they all brought by our place was insane. And we appreciate it, really, we do, but if Maggie says she can let us keep them without alerting anyone, then why not? We’ll keep them here, in the house. Just to be sure, okay?’

‘Fine,’ Benjamin says, eyes wide. ‘Fine. Run this into the ground. You’re all just waiting,’ he accuses, ‘you’re waiting for this to fail. You’re saying you want this but you’re lying! All of you! And this?’ He gestures at the guns, ‘that’s just a way to sabotage! Because they’re going to find out and they’re going to give us shit and then you can all say; see? It’s a bad place and they’re stupid and weak and not worth a damn! _And it would all have been for nothing_!’

 ‘We’re here,’ Maggie says, ‘we’re trying but-‘

‘You’re not!’ Benjamin shouts at her. ‘Daryl’s been trying more than all of you and he hates it here! He _hates_ it and we’re still here because we _need_ this place! And it’s working, what I’m doing it’s – it’s – please, you can’t just…’ He’s breathing hard now and rubs at his forehead, muttering under his breath for a second. ‘Fine! Fine, fucking _fine_! I don’t care. Do what you think is best, I’m going to change. My fucking jeans are still soaked.’

He turns on his heels and walks up the stairs, taking them two at the time.

Daryl watches him go.

Seconds tick by. A minute. Everyone is looking at him.

‘Jesus,’ Carol breathes before getting up and running up the stairs too.

A door opens, raised but muffled voices.

Judith starts to cry upstairs.

‘I got her,’ Daryl says because he can’t stand the accusatory way Tara is looking at him.

Up the stairs and round the corner and he can’t help but notice that Benjamin’s bedroom door is open and he can’t help but slow down and look inside.

Benjamin is sitting on the edge of his bed. Shoulders slumped.

Carol is standing in front of him.

His forehead rests against the softness of her belly, eyes closed.

Her fingers are carding through his hair.

He’s crying. Soft, broken sobs. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I’m _so_ sorry.’

‘This isn’t your fault,’ Carol tells him. ‘They’ll pay for this.’

‘No! I can do it,’ Benjamin cries, fingers flexing where they grasp on to Carol’s hips. ‘We need this. Whatever it takes. I promised him.’

‘He wouldn’t want this.’

‘No, he’d burn this whole place down if he knew.’ Benjamin almost laughs through his tears. ‘Don’t tell him. Promise me you’ll never tell.’

Carol glances at the door, where Daryl is lingering, silent as a shadow. She loops a protective arm around the younger man’s shoulders, buries one hand in the blond hair. ‘I won’t tell him,’ she promises.

 

 

Seconds later, Daryl lifts a crying Judith from her crib. He rocks her gently as he looks out of the window, out over the town. With its picket fences and idiotic trading system and stupid, backwards people. With the wall that won’t hold, with the guards who don’t know their ass from their elbows, with the kids that grow up thinking that the danger only looms outside of their precious walls.

He kisses her forehead.

He remembers what he’d told her brother, weeks ago. How his mother had played possum when her children had been slapped silly because she couldn’t bear another beating. How it’s sometimes easier to let things be.

Ignorance is bliss, after all.

And he feels sick. Sick to the stomach, with his hands trembling on his little ass kicker, with bile rising up in his throat, so hot and heavy, with his eyes burning with unshed tears and his hands itching for another burn mark.

‘It’s okay,’ he tells Judith and pretends to believe it. ‘Everything’s all right.’

He plays possum. He’s not sure what he knows, he doesn’t understand what’s going on, only that there’s _something_ going on, something isn’t right, not with this town and not with Benjamin. There’s something dark coiling in his heart. Dread. Or maybe he does know, somewhere in his soul, but he doesn’t allow his mind to wrap around it.

 

 


	13. Hit and run

 

* * *

 

 

It was a stupid mistake.

Daryl curses and rolls over so he can sit up. Pain is shooting up his leg, down to his feet, but he scrambles over to the bike. Hands in the dirt, curses spilling from his lips as he grabs his crossbow. A foot in the stirrup, the one that doesn’t feel like it’s on fire at the moment, and he yanks the string back until it latches. He slides a bolt in place.

The bike is in a ditch next to the road.

He looks around, listens, but the only sound in the vicinity is the pathetic groans and moans from a walker on the road. The one that Daryl had hit with his bike seconds earlier.

He’d been driving along, cruising back to Genesis over familiar roads, so lost in thought that he’d never even seen that damn walker stumbling onto the middle of the road.

The impact had send him right into the ditch. The bike looks to be okay. He thanks the heavens as he hoists himself up by the seat. His shoulder hurts, his arm too, but his ankle feels all wrong. Not broken because he can lean on it, even though that causes him to start another round of swearing. It _hurts_.

‘Come on, you fuckin’ pussy,’ he tells himself as he climbs out of the ditch. ‘And you!’ He points his crossbow at the walker, ‘ya fuckin’ piece of shit. Watch where the hell you’re goin’. Look at ya. Snapped like a twig. Damn, son.’

The walker is on the ground. The bike had hit him in the stomach, all of the organs are spilled onto the concrete, rotting flesh giving away easily. The smell is unreal. Daryl gags as he comes closer, limping towards it.

‘You ugly ass motherfucker,’ he tells it. ‘Should leave you here to rot. Would have if ya’d ruined my ride!’ He sucks on his teeth and fires the crossbow. The bolt pierces the skull easily. He pulls it out again and wipes it clean on the walker’s jacket.

Then he sighs, wipes some sweat from his forehead and throws the bow onto his back. ‘I’m talkin’ to a damn walker.’ He mutters as he shakes his head and limps over to the bike. It takes him a lot of effort to get it back onto the road. He grunts and shouts and swears, but manages in the end.

He falls into the seat and leans on the handlebars to catch his breath.

‘Ya better fuckin’ start,’ he tells the machine. ‘Haven’t worked on ya all this time to be beaten by a damn walker.’

It does start. He breathes a sigh of relief and shifts it into gear, allowing it to gently ease back into things before throwing the throttle open and tearing back to the gates of Genesis.

They open for him and people wave as he weaves around a couple of vehicles which are parked in front of the pantry. The runners are back from another trip. People are unloading their haul, big boxes by the looks of it. He’s not sure what they were after this time, but reckons it must be supplies for the energy grit they’re trying to set up. Solar power. Eugene has been working on a new design with the help of a couple of others from Genesis.

He parks in front of the clinic.

‘Daryl!’ A young man comes running with a smile on his face. It falls when he gets closer. ‘Wow, what happened to you?’

‘Kissed concrete,’ Daryl growls as he gets off the bike, forgetting about his ankle for a second and hobbling with a hiss. ‘Ain’t nothing. Is Ella in?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the man nods. ‘Got any game?’

Daryl throws him a large bag.

‘Great, thanks. I’ll bring some over to your house later when I’ve cleaned it.’

‘Whatever,’ he says before limping into the clinic.

 

 

Ella is reading a book when Daryl enters her office. Keen eyes flicker up from the pages and widen when she takes in the hunter’s disheveled appearance. There’s mud on one side of his body and his leather jacket is ruined where he’d scraped over the asphalt.

‘What happened?’ she asks as she gets up.

‘Hit ‘n run,’ Daryl grunts. He limps towards the desk and plops himself down on it. ‘Hit a damn walker,’ he says when Ella rounds the desks and lifts an eyebrow at him. ‘Was on my way home, didn’t see it. Landed my ass in a ditch. Ankle’s busted up.’

Ella sinks to one knee and carefully prods around his boot. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Like a bitch.’

The doctor looks up at him with a pointed look.

‘Yes, it hurts, doctor,’ Daryl grounds out.

‘Can you take off your boot? It’ll probably make it hurt a bit more at first, you’ve got them laced tight, so it’s acting like a-‘

‘Fine,’ Daryl cuts in, ‘good lord, it ain’t broken, just need ya to bind it up and have a look at my shoulder.’

‘Okay,’ Ella nods as the hunter leans down to carefully slip his boot off. He hisses at the move but straightens up quickly after. On command, he arches his foot, lets it dangle, swivels it left and right and presses it down on Ella’s knee until she’s sure it’s not broken or so badly damaged that he needs to keep off it. She wraps it up and smiles at him. ‘Never thought you’d come to me with this.’

He offers her a tiny smirk in return. ‘Might be a stubborn mule, but ain’t no doctor. And you got meds.’

‘You’re just here for the pills then?’

‘Yup.’ He brushes some hair out of his eyes. ‘Never used to go to no doctor. You know, before. If we got hurt, we’d fix ourselves a cure.’

‘Let me guess,’ Ella says as she helps him out of his vest and jacket, throwing them onto a chair. ‘Drugs and moonshine.’

‘Yeah. Weren’t no prescription drugs neither.’

Ella snorts, ‘no, guessed not. Lot of people did it that way, though. Trying to fix themselves because they just couldn’t afford to pay for the medicine or whatever reason they had. Why come to me now? Try to lift your arm. Yeah, like that, a little higher. Is it because the painkillers are free now?’

Daryl shrugs a little as he lowers his arm again. ‘Nah, don’t need them anyway, was just a joke. Some people got their brain, right? That’s what keeps them alive. I got my body. To hunt, to do everything. Can’t afford to be out of business for long.’

‘You’re right,’ Ella nods as she prods at his neck and shoulder blade. ‘Good thing you’re no crybaby, I can’t afford to waste the meds. We’re already down to two weeks.’

Daryl frowns and tries to look over his shoulder at her but she pushes his chin back. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Eyes forward, I need to feel your neck. Did you hit your head?’

‘No, just got jostled a bit. What do ya mean, down to two weeks?’

‘I’ve got two weeks to cure people,’ Ella says as she steps back. ‘Your shoulder’s fine, I mean, it’ll bruise like you won’t believe, but there’s no permanent damage as far as I can feel. Try to keep moving it over the next couple of days, keep the blood flowing. You should put your foot up, though. Give it as much rest as you can. Definitely no hunting tomorrow.’

‘Fine. Two weeks?’

‘Yeah,’ Ella sinks back into her chair and sighs, shaking her head. ‘It used to be a month but we’re running out of medicine, supplies, everything. After two weeks, I’m not allowed to give my patients painkillers or any kind of medicine they might need. We shut down the machines, the drips and have to see if they make it on their own. Davis made the call. It’s just a hypothetical situation, there’s never been anyone-‘

Daryl twists around on the desk, planting his good foot on the armrest of her chair and leaning in close. The flashing of his knife causes Ella to open her mouth in shock but she quickly closes it when he presses the metal against her throat. ‘Two weeks?’ Daryl growls. ‘What about Rick?’

‘He’s an exception, apparently.’ Ella puts her hands up and then lays them on Daryl’s arm, gently pushing him away. ‘He’s doing good, Daryl. He’s fine. I’m expecting him to wake up any minute now. Please lower the knife, Daryl.’

He hesitates. ‘You said two weeks. He’s been here longer than that.’

‘I said; the rule is two weeks. But I’m still treating him and nobody has come to tell me to stop yet, so I’ll continue for as long as I can, okay? I’m not giving up on him. He’s going to wake up.’

Daryl frowns and lowers the knife. ‘Who’s supposed to come and tell ya to stop?’

‘Davis, of course. It’s protocol,’ Ella pulls a face, ‘well, _protocol_ ,’ she says with air quotations around the word. ‘I don’t know how you can call a decision made by Davis and Xander around a campfire, bottle of moonshine in their hands, _protocol_.’

‘Why hasn’t he come yet?’

‘Who knows?’ Ella shrugs. ‘Maybe he forgot about it, I’m certainly not going to remind him and you know, _did you hear about that guy who hasn’t moved a muscle since he got here_ really isn’t a conversation starter, so no one else has reminded him, apparently. It’s a small town but even we have more interesting things to discuss. Or,’ she takes up her pencil again and taps it on the book. ‘Maybe he just doesn’t have the balls to call a shot like that. I told you; we’ve never been in this situation before. It’s never happened. And to condemn a man to death like that? It’s not Davis.’

‘Then why come up with the rule?’

‘It wasn’t all Davis. The runners supply us, remember?’

‘Xander.’

Ella nods, ‘Xander.’

‘Little cunt got a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, now don’t he?’

Ella smiles a little, but there’s no happiness in her face. ‘Yeah.’

Daryl sheets his knife and shifts back on the desk to give her more space. He leans with his elbows on one drawn-up knee. Bites on his thumb as he watches her. ‘Got something to tell me?’

 ‘No.’

‘Ya sure? ‘Cause that’s my brother in there,’ Daryl says softly, cocking his head to the side. ‘And if something’s goin’ on here, something that ain’t right? Hmm,’ he nods.

Ella meets his gaze and doesn’t seem too impressed by the unspoken threat. ‘Don’t ever imply that I don’t take care of my patients, Daryl. And everyone knows that something ain’t right about this place, okay? But it works for us. Whatever it is, no one wants to know because it works for us.’

Daryl frowns.

‘We ran out of medicine,’ Ella tells him, ‘the kind Rick needs? We ran out. I told the runners we needed more. It was a couple of days after they’d lost Noah, I felt bad about sending them out there so soon after that, but Rick needed that stuff, okay?’ And they found it.’

‘So?’

‘Daryl,’ she leans forward, ‘they found the _exact_ medicine Rick needed on a run the second I asked for it. You’ve been out there. You know what it’s like. Pharmacies have been raided, hospitals overrun, there isn’t some sort of medical facility anywhere nearby. Where did they get that stuff? And not half a bottle, expired, not quite what we were hoping for but maybe it’ll work type of thing either. The right stuff. The exact same thing that I had been using, same brand, same bottles, the same thing.’

‘What’re ya sayin’?’

‘I arrived here late,’ Ella says. ‘I followed the signs and they took me in. This place was already set up,’ she motions to the office. ‘Raeanne showed me around. She told me how they’d been setting up this place to function as a clinic. It was a pretty good set-up, you know, by apocalyptic standards. The stock room filled with supplies and medicine. We thought it would last a long time but people got sick, of course. Amputations, different kinds of viruses, infections. The supplies dwindled. The runners had a lot of difficulty finding more. And then your group came along, Rick needed medicine and a day later Benjamin walks in here with it?’

‘Benjamin?’

‘Yeah,’ Ella shrugs, ‘he told me they’d found it somewhere east. He comes by a lot to sit with Rick or to catch up with us here. Likes to keep tabs on things, I suppose. Anyway, he brought the medicine.’

‘And what?’ Daryl asks, ‘ya think he’d been holdin’ onto it or something? We gave you everything we had when we came in here, we ain’t holding onto nothing!’

‘Of course you’re not,’ Ella snaps back. ‘A fool could tell how much that man in there means to all of you. I’ve never had a patient have so many visitors, and visitors who keep coming, over and over and over, for weeks now. People give up, okay? They just give up after a while. Not you. Any of you. We pretend to be a family here in Genesis.’ She snorts. ‘I don’t think anyone knew what that meant anymore until you all strode in here.’

Something warm bleeds into Daryl’s chest at that but he ignores it and sets his jaw.

‘The medicine Benjamin brought me was the same I had when I came here, the same that had been in our supply room all this time.’

Daryl bites down on his thumb, ‘who stocked it?’ he asks, but he already knows the answer, of course.

‘Xander.’

‘So you think he had been holdin’ things back? That he has his own little stockpile somewhere?’

‘I do,’ Ella nods.

‘And y’all ain’t doin’ nothing about it?’ Daryl asks incredulously.

‘Why should we? He gave them to me when I asked for them.’

‘Just like that, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ Ella pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I’m not going to poke around and cause trouble. What if, next time, he says no? That they can’t find any? I’ve got patients to look after,’ she tells him. ‘They rely on me and I’m not going to endanger them by messing with a system that works for me. I got the meds my patients needed and Xander didn’t ask for anything in return. Maybe he just gets off on the idea that everyone is dependent on him, that he is in charge. Let him. I honestly don’t care.’

‘What happens when he does say no?’

‘Then I’ll go to Davis.’

‘Think he’s going to turn on his own blood?’

Ella sighs, ‘I don’t know. Look, there hasn’t been a reason to say anything. We’ll deal with it when the problems arise.’

Play possum, Daryl thinks as he grunts.

‘Keep your foot elevated and your back warm, okay? If I give you crutches, will you use them?’

‘No.’

‘Then I won’t give them,’ Ella says with a roll of her eyes, but a tiny smile lingers around the corners of her mouth. ‘You’re all set. Want a doctor’s note?’

He smirks at her when he hops down from the desk, balancing on his good foot for a moment while he puts his boot back on. ‘Nah, I’m good.’

‘Where are you going now?’

He narrows his eyes suspiciously. ‘I’m going home and put my foot up and keep my back warm?’

Ella laughs, ‘and don’t you forget it. Tomorrow too. I’m serious, Daryl, you could do permanent damage to it otherwise.’

‘All right,’ he nods before limping to the door. ‘And thanks.’

‘Anytime. Try not to hug any concrete in the foreseeable future though.’

 

 

After only one block, he decides to cut through the backyards and walk along the wall. Four people already offered to help him home after seeing his limp, but none of them were his family so he dismissed them with a glare and grunt that he was fine. There are no people near the wall. Hardly anybody glances up from their chores in the houses to spot him limping along.

It takes a little while to reach their homes.

He decides to stop by Carol’s to see if anyone’s home. Their bitching about how he’s never around anymore starts to get on his nerves so it’d be good to spend an afternoon with them. He walks up to the backdoor, reaches out to grab hold of the handle as he glances up through the glass, into the house.

His insides turn cold.

Benjamin is backed up against the wall near the front door. His arms limp at his sides, feet slightly apart and head titled up.

Xander is standing right in front of him, against him, their chests pressed together, his broad hands in the blond hair, tugging the head to the side.

They’re kissing.

Lips on lips, eyes closed as hips press together, roll to increase the friction between them.

Xander pulls back for a second, dark eyes fluttering open. He says something to Benjamin’s lips and the blond nods. He curls an arm around Xander’s waist, pulling him close and his free hand roams over his side. Pale lips capture lips again.

Daryl stares.

Xander pushes Benjamin’s shirt up, running his hands all over that pale expanse of skin Daryl knows so well. Thumbs flicking over sensitive nipples but Benjamin hardly reacts. He just tilts his head to the other side, nips with teeth at lips and earning another kiss from Genesis’s main runner.

When the broad hands move down to Benjamin’s belt buckle, Daryl takes a step back, forgetting about his ankle and nearly stumbling down the small set of steps. He catches himself on the railing. Luckily, the two men inside are too caught up in each other to notice him.

He walks away. His heart pounds in his ears. There’s nothing in his mind or heart, except for white noise. Blood rushing through his veins, his heartbeat too fast and breathing too shallow to be any good.

Seconds later he shoves himself through his own backdoor, slamming it closed behind him and leaning back against it.

‘Well, hello.’ Tara’s voice greets him. She’s sitting at their kitchen table with Glenn, Eugene and Abraham. They’re playing a game of go-fish.

The Korean glances up with a smile but it fades when he takes in Daryl’s appearance. He rises from his seat. ‘What the hell happened to you?’

Daryl closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting it hit the door. ‘Shitty day, bro,’ he breathes. ‘Shitty ass day.’

 

 


	14. Wake up

 

* * *

 

 

He hides. Plays possum. Pretends like his whole world did not come crashing down when he saw Benjamin kiss someone else.

It’s far easier than he thought it would be, too. The rest of his family assigns his short temper to the fact that he’s not allowed to go outside and therefore must feel useless. They try to cheer him up with small chores. He cleans the guns they’re hiding, looks after Judith while Carol runs errands and pours over maps with Glenn to find new places to send the runners to.

It’s easy, too, because Benjamin is avoiding him. That means he doesn’t have to see those green eyes, doesn’t have to think too much about the way foreign hands had roamed over his chest, and when his mind travels to what might have happened after that belt had because unbuckled, it’s easily reeled in by Judith’s prattling or Maggie’s updates on the greenhouses or new legal system she’s trying to implement.

They saw each other for a moment later that night, when Daryl had joined Carol’s table for dinner and the blond had dashed up the stairs to grab his bag. He wouldn’t join them for dinner, was invited to someone else’s place, and nobody needed to ask who he was hanging out with this time.

Glenn had rolled his eyes scoffed while Rosita had just looked troubled.

With the mud washed away, bruises hiding beneath a clean shirt and his foot out of sight under the table, Benjamin had never even noticed that Daryl had gotten hurt.

And nobody told him.

Certainly not Daryl, who’d felt sick at the sight of him and just tightened his grip on his spoon until there was an imprint of metal on the palm of his hand.

Of course he wants to _hurt_ Xander. He dreams about his arrow piercing the other man’s heart in just the right way, the way that it hurts and it’s slow and still ends with him turning. Other times he dreams about him pinning Xander to a tree, a bolt clean in his skull and that would be okay too, not the best way, he figures, but still an end so that’s something.

But he knows it wouldn’t be right because he and Benjamin have been growing apart since they decided to come to this place. They might have made significant strides in their relationship, with Daryl being unafraid to reach out anymore, to claim those lips when no one is looking and not having to end cigarettes on his hands when he thinks about how badly he wants the other man. But it’s two steps forward, three steps back with them.

And hell, as much as he hates it, _hates_ it, he wants Benjamin to be happy. And if he’s happy with someone else…

They’d broken up, he tells himself. Everyone knows that. He knows that. They’re nothing to each other and what they’d done before didn’t mean anything. He’d told Michonne so. Had told everyone so. And while nobody might have believed him, he still repeats it to himself like a damn prayer. Something to cling onto.

It’s hardly surprising, he tries to reason. The last time they did anything more than hug, he’d nearly bashed the man’s skull in for implying that Daryl might be gay. He’d warned Daryl; one day he’ll get sick of telling him that it’s just them, that nobody else mattered. He’d warned him this would happen, that he would find someone else, someone who would just take what was being offered without every step being a struggle in itself.

It’s probably his fault. And while he’s never afraid to confront people, he doesn’t want to talk to Benjamin. Can’t imagine striding up to the blond, demanding to know what the hell he’s doing with _Xander_ of all people, because he doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to hear that he’s not enough.

He catches glimpses of Benjamin through the next couple of days. He can’t help himself.

He’d been walking Judith around town, hobbling along while pointing out trees and birds to her, and had spotted Benjamin getting ready for his run. Army boots and leather jacket, two knives on his belts and his sister’s gun in his hands, surrounded by the rest of the runners. It shouldn’t have been an arresting sight, except for the fact that Benjamin didn’t talk. He just stood there, pale faced and waiting quietly while the rest of them, all hyped up for their trip, laughed and joked and ran around.

He’d spent all day in the armory, cleaning out guns and letting Carl help him to give the teenager something to do other than worry about his dad. When they’d walked back, they’d passed the bonfire near the gates, where the runners can often be found hanging out. And Benjamin had been there, far too silent, biting on his thumb and nodding along but never opening his mouth. The green eyes downcast.

Two days later, Tara tears into the living room where Daryl is lounging with Judith on the floor. He pushes her toy cars around and she chases them until she gets sick of the game and just curls up in his lap, a thumb in her mouth while he reads her a story, tripping over some of the words and whishing Benjamin was there to do it instead of him.

‘That asshole,’ she spits as soon as the door closes behind her. ‘That fucking asshole, where are the guns?’

‘Whoa,’ Maggie says as she pushes herself away from the kitchen table and raises her hands to calm the younger girl. ‘What happened?’

‘He’s _lying_ , that’s what!’

‘Who is?’

‘Fucking Xander of course!’ Tara shouts and Daryl kisses Judith’s cheek to distract the little girl from the noise. The scratching of his semi-beard makes her giggle every time. ‘That lying motherfucker, he’s so _smug_ , my God. Pawing at Ben like he’s his own little play thing when I walk by. Jesus, he’s trying to make me jealous or something, like anyone would actually believe that we were together at all! Ever since we _broke up_ ,’ she places air quotation around the words, ‘he’s always trying to get a rise out of me with Ben. You should have seen him, bragging how sweet Ben tastes, how he’s his, how he’s-‘

Maggie’s eyes widen and her gaze darts to Daryl.

Tara snaps her mouth shut and whirls around. She spots Daryl on the floor. Color drains from her face. ‘He- he’s lying,’ she tells the hunter.

‘What’re ya tellin’ me for?’ he asks.

‘Because –‘ Tara searches for words and then pushes past the shock and finds anger again, ‘because he’s yours and everyone knows it and that fucking asshole better get his damn hands off of him!’

Daryl snorts, ‘I ain’t his keeper.’ Tara opens her mouth to reply but he cuts her off. ‘And he ain’t lyin’.’

‘ _What_?’

‘C’mon little lady,’ Daryl gets up and lifts Judith to his hip, ‘let’s go see if aunt Carol has some applesauce for ya, hmm? Ya like that? Applesauce? _Applesauce_.’

‘What are you doing?’ Carol asks as she opens the refrigerator to get a jar of the stuff.

‘I’m tryin’ to make it her first word,’ Daryl smirks as he plops Judith down on the counter, holding her in place with a gentle hand. ‘Carl’s tryin’ to make it his name. But applesauce is way better a first word, huh, kicker? _Applesauce_.’

‘You know that’s not what I meant.’

The hunter lets Judith latch on to his hand, tugging at his fingers with interest. He wriggles them to make her laugh. ‘Don’t know nothin’,’ he smiles at the kid.

 

It surprises him that Benjamin slips into his bedroom two nights later.

It’s way past midnight and he pretends to sleep. The blond doesn’t even stop to check whether he’s awake, just assumes that he’s out cold because Daryl never acknowledges him during the nighttime visits. He closes the door behind him and pads over to the bed, sitting on the end of it with a heavy sigh.

Daryl had closed the curtains before turning in. It’s too dark to see his friend.

‘We’re going on a long run tomorrow,’ Benjamin whispers and his voice sounds hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a long time. ‘We need to find some of that electrical cord for the solar panels and new glass for the greenhouses. That last storm broke too many. It’s all fucked up.

‘Everything is fucked up now,’ Benjamin sighs. ‘I mean – Carl’s doing good, Carol, Maggie and Glenn, everyone is doing all right, I guess. Judith’s growing up fast, man. She’s smart, you know? I bet that when she finally starts to speak it’s a damn speech on global warming or some shit.’ He snorts. ‘Or crossbow safety, she’s been hanging out with you so much, I wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Tara hates me. I’m not sure why I’ve deserved the silent treatment but honestly? I’m too tired to find out. She’s alive enough to give me the cold shoulder, that’s all I care about right now. Fuck,’ he lets himself fall back onto the mattress.

‘The rest hates me too, a little bit, one way or the other. Either because I’m not around a lot, I mean, Carl feels pretty ignored right now but keeps pretending everything is all right because I pass him my batteries. Glenn’s worse at hiding it, though. Keep coming down on me about spending too much time elsewhere. They don’t understand.’ He laughs softly, but it sounds more painful than anything. ‘They keep cutting the people here down, you know? They’re stupid and weak and they don’t know what it takes, blablabla, all of that. And they’re so _blind_ themselves. God.

‘If they only knew, huh?’ he sighs again and tilts his head to the side so he can look at Daryl’s vague outline. He’s quiet for a while.

‘I love you.’

The words make Daryl sick. His grip tightens on his pillow, nails digging into feathers.

‘I _love_ you, Daryl Dixon,’ Benjamin murmurs. He looks up at the ceiling again.

Minutes tick by. Both men are lost in thought.

Then Benjamin sits up, leaning back on his elbows. He yawns. ‘Everyone’s safe.’ The listing of the names is familiar by now. ‘Rick, Carl and Judith. Maggie and Glenn. Carol. Michonne. Abe and Tara. Sasha Rose and Eugene. Daryl.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘We should’ve never come here.’

‘We should leave. Fuck, I want to burn this place to the ground. It’s so hard to carry a knife here because I want to bury it in their skulls, right through their eye, or maybe I want to cut their throats and leave them to turn. If that means their sous will be trapped somewhere, I want that. I want to carve my name in their chests and make them never, ever forget.’

Daryl shivers.

‘It’s all fucked up. I hate my name. It’s not even _me_ anymore,’ he snorts. ‘It’s fake, all of it. I look in the mirror and damn, that guy used to look like me, you know? Got the eyes and everything, but no.

‘I keep forgetting stuff, man. Stuff I always knew. My favorite book, I just can’t remember how it starts and I don’t want to look it up because I know, right? I _know_ how it starts but can’t remember right now. I’ve got a goddamn miracle memory and I can’t _remember_.

‘I know I made you a promise and I’m trying, I really am but… We should never have come here.’

‘Why not?’ The words escape him.

Benjamin flinches at the sound of his voice but settles down on his elbows again, tilting his head back for a moment. ‘Of course you weren’t asleep. Who was I kidding? Damn, Daryl.’

‘ _Why not_?’

The blond gets up and flicks the lights on. They both wince when they’re blinded. ‘Okay,’ Benjamin sits down on the bed again, closer to Daryl and right next to his hip this time. The hunter rolls onto his back and folds one arm under his head so he can look at his friend. ‘If we’re just going to skip over the fact that you’re pretending to be asleep while I sit here, then we’re going to skip to this part of the conversation, okay? You can’t ask me things you don’t want to know.’

‘What the hell?’ Daryl sits up now.

‘I know-,’ Benjamin starts and stop, starting over, ‘there… Look. There’s something you need to know, all right? As our, what, leader? As my friend, as… as the person I love, okay? There’s something you need to know, but once you know what it is, you…. I don’t think…. You’re going to be mad, okay? At me. At other people, and….’ He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. ‘It won’t work anymore. Whatever is going on, it won’t work anymore and Judith will not be safe. Carl won’t be, anyone of them, okay?’

‘What the fuck is going on?’

‘No,’ Benjamin shakes his head, ‘you can’t ask that because we need them to be safe. I can’t tell you. Please don’t make me.’

Daryl frowns. ‘I won’t get mad.’

The blond laughs at that, ‘that only works on five year olds, Daryl.’

‘Tell me what’s going on!’ His hand shoots out to grab Benjamin’s biceps, nails digging into the skin.

The other man flinches, jerking away from him, eyes wide for a second.

‘Someone’s hurting you,’ Daryl breathes because he knows that reaction. ‘Are they usin’ ya as a punchin’ bag, now?

‘No,’ Benjamin lies.

‘ _Stop lyin’ to me_!’

‘Then stop asking questions you don’t want the answer to!’

They stare at each other, chests heaving. Blue and green, clashing so violently that it makes Daryl sick.

Benjamin is the first to look away. He glances at his knees before meeting the blue gaze again, ‘if you ask now, I’ll tell you, but you don’t want to know. You have to trust me. I know it’s hard and it’s wrong, but you have to trust me, okay?’

Daryl sets his jaw, chews on the inside of his cheek, opens his mouth to say something, to ask what he thinks is going on, but he stops himself. His fingers flex against his blankets. Then he slowly nods. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay,’ Benjamin echoes and he’s never sounded more relieved.

‘Just…’ Daryl sits up a bit more, ‘is there anything I can do?’

‘No.’

‘I can help,’ Daryl argues, ‘whatever it is, I can _help_.’

‘No, you can’t,’ Benjamin snaps back. ‘Fine. You want to help? Then stop. Stop offering to help. I can do it.’ He slides up to the bed, letting his head fall into the pillows as he swings his feet up on to the matrass. ‘I’m not…. Look, I know you all think I’m just some pathetic, talkative, weak college bitch or something, but I got this, okay?’

Daryl looks back at his friend and wonders how he could ever think that. Hell, Benjamin is nothing like Rick, who is all raw power now that he has lost his softer side, or Glenn, who is wiry muscles and ghosts of footsteps, or even Daryl himself, who is like his tattoo; angels and demons keeping each other in check. Instead, Benjamin is a silver tongue backed up with the sharpest of knives. A viper, coiling muscles ready to strike.

‘Okay,’ he says as he lets himself fall back into the pillows as well. ‘When will it end?’

‘When someone dies.’

Daryl looks at his friend.

Benjamin meets his eye. He looks so tired, so pale and drawn and broken, that it almost shatters Daryl’s heart.

‘Not you,’ Daryl whispers.

‘No,’ Benjamin agrees. ‘The moment all ties are cut, when we’re strong and good and ready, someone is going to die. It will look like a tragic accident, but we will know.’ The green eyes are wet with tears. ‘We’ll know that they got what they fucking deserved.’

 And the hunter knows, knows it in his bones now, because the other man is usually so careful about which words he uses and now he isn’t referring to the runners in general.

‘Xander,’ Daryl breathes.

‘Yeah.’ Benjamin closes his eyes and inhales deeply. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

Daryl presses the fingernails of his right hand into his palm, leaving small red circles in the soft flesh. ‘I saw you kissin’ him.’

Benjamin goes rigid beside him. He slowly turns his head and opens his eyes to look at his friend. ‘Daryl,’ he starts, voice unstable, breaking on the word. ‘I – I’m so sorry. It doesn’t mean anything. _He_ doesn’t mean anything.’

Daryl nods. The muscle in his jaw twitches. ‘Right. Just a warm body? A warm bed, huh?’

‘No,’ the blond shakes his head. ‘No, please, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t care.’ Daryl pushes himself up and out of the bed. He puts his boots on because he feels vulnerable without them. He walks over to the window, leaning with his forearm against the wooden frame.

‘Daryl, please,’ Benjamin scoots over to the other side of the bed and follows him. ‘I’m _so_ sorry.’

The hunter snorts dismissively. ‘What? Sorry I caught ya, right? Ya come in here, bitchin’ about him, tellin’ me ya want him dead? Didn’t look so sorry when ya were makin’ out with him. Ya boyfriend ain’t treatin’ ya right? Go bitch to him about it. I don’t care.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Benjamin says as he steps up behind his friend.

Daryl can see his reflection in the glass. The blond hair is a mess. He’s pale, the memory of sun-kissed skin now long gone due to winter, and in the darkness of the reflection his eyes are nothing but flashes of gray and black.

‘Can you please look at me? Let me explain?’

Daryl scoffs as he turns around. ‘Nah. Weren’t that what that little speech of yours was all about, huh? Don’t ask if you don’t want to know? I don’t want to know! I don’t care!’

‘Jesus, Daryl, I’m _sorry_!’ Benjamin pleads. ‘It’s not what you think it is, okay? I don’t-‘

In a flash of anger, hopelessness and loss transforming into something red-hot inside his chest, Daryl grabs at Benjamin’s shirt to haul him close. A fist in the fabric, a sharp tug and the buttons tear off as Benjamin stumbles with the sudden motion. Just the top buttons, the shirt falling up, pulled away from his body.

‘So it’s not you wantin’ to get fuckin’ laid, huh? Getting’ frustrated because I’m not bending over for ya, is that not what it is? Think I’m stupid, son? Thought you were home free just because you sucked me off? That ain’t what it-‘ He falls silent when his gaze flickers down at the exposed skin. He’s expecting to see that familiar expanse of pale skin, that hard chest and rippling muscles, one of those dark nipples surrounded by birthmarks and freckles. Instead he sees bruises. Black, purple yellow, hues of green, some still red from a recent impact. They overlap each other, some fading and some fresh.

‘Daryl-‘ Benjamin starts, eyes wide and scared. A hand comes up to push the hunter’s away.

‘What the hell?’

The look on the blond’s face hardens. He pushes Daryl away roughly, adjusting his shirt a bit so it covers him again. Green eyes flash. ‘If you ever put your hands on me in anger again,’ he says, voice low and deceptively calm, ‘I will fucking _gut_ you like a pig. Don’t ever think I won’t.’

Daryl’s gaze drops to the sharp blade on his friend’s belt.

‘I love you,’ Benjamin says as he rolls his shoulders back. ‘You might not believe me now, but I _love_ you. All this?’ He gestures at his chest, ‘I’m doing it for you. Not for Rick, not for Judith, not for Michonne or Rosita, for _you_ because I fucking love you and I promised! I promised you something and I’m damn well going to keep it this time.’

‘What the fuck,’ Daryl breathes because his mind is filled with white noise, a high-pitched screaming sound, maybe, that just drowns out everything else. His heart stutters, misses a beat. ‘Benji, I’m sor-‘

‘Nah,’ Benjamin sneers as he zips his hoodie up to cover his ripped shirt. ‘Don’t start. Don’t back-pedal now, Dixon. I’m sorry, I am so Goddamn _sorry_ , you will never even know, but you’re alive and your family is safe and I’m not going to apologize for that! I’m _not_.’

Daryl’s mouth is dry, far too dry to say anything.

‘Fuck,’ Benjamin rubs a hand over his cheek. ‘All right, everything is messed up, but that’s fine, it’s all good.’ He looks around the room, spots his backpack and hoists it onto his shoulders. ‘We’ll be fine. I mean, you fucking hate me and all, but that’s fine too, ‘cause that just means you’re alive. Good. Okay.’

‘Benji,’ Daryl tries. ‘Please.’ He’s not sure what he’s asking for. An explanation, maybe, or just a single moment more.

‘No,’ Benjamin snaps back, running a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t, please don’t. You hate me and you’re hurting and it’s all my fault, I know that. But you’re also alive. And Rick’s going to wake up and Xander will have an accident and I will fucking _leave_ because I can’t stand the way everyone is looking at me, let alone when they fucking figure out what the hell is going on, so yeah, I’ll leave and it’ll be fine.’ He hops a little to hitch his backpack higher. ‘No,’ he says again when Daryl opens his mouth. ‘ _No_.’ He opens the door. ‘You don’t care, remember? That makes everything so much easier, huh? It’s like running away. Live it. Love it. Own it now! _You don’t care_.’

He slams the door closed behind him.

Daryl just stands there, frozen on the spot.

After a couple of minutes he walks to his nightstand, grabs the lamp from it and hurls it against the wall.

It shatters into a thousand tiny pieces.

 

 

Judith says her first word the next evening. She’s sitting in Carol’s lap after dinner, the plates still on the table, dirty dishes piling up while they all lounge and enjoy each other’s company. Everyone, except for Gabriel and Benjamin, is there. The Father had been excluded from their group as soon as he’d set up his new church. They don’t attend mass and he’s not invited for their family meetings.

Benjamin is out on a run with his team.

The little girl is prattling on about something. She’s getting tired and fuzzy. In a lull of the conversation, she looks up and reaches for her brother.

‘Carl,’ she says, making grabby hands at the boy who’s sitting on Carol’s right hand side.

Everyone stares.

A grin breaks out on Carl’s face as he jumps up. He laughs and takes his sister, swinging her up in the air, ‘yes!’ he shouts, so excited that it makes Maggie and Glenn laugh. ‘ _Carl_! That’s right. Hi, Judy!’

‘Carl,’ Judith says again, clutching onto him and burying her face in his shoulder.

‘I won.’ The teenager tells Daryl with a smug look. ‘I’m better than applesauce!’

Daryl lets his chair tip back, ‘’s just too big a word, I reckon. She’s a Grimes, all right.’

Carol sniggers but Carl looks at him with faked shock. He kisses Judith’s cheek, ‘don’t mind mean old uncle Daryl, Judy. He’s just mad because he lost and you like me better.’

The hunter smirks and bites his thumb to hide it.

Several frantic knocks on the door cause everyone to freeze. Abraham, who’s closest to the door turns and puts a hand on his knife. ‘It’s open,’ he calls out.

Ella burst in. Her hair is frayed and she looks around the room with a wild expression on her face. ‘Where’s Daryl? Carl?’ It blooms into joy when she spots the whole family at the kitchen table.

‘What?’ the teenager asks, ‘what’s wrong? Is it my dad?’

‘Yes!’ Ella breezes into the room, laughing a little, ‘but it’s good news! He’s awake. I mean, he woke up!’

Michonne jumps to her feet, ‘can we see him?’

‘Of course! Of course, come on,’ Ella laughs, smoothing her hair down and breathing heavily. ‘I ran all this way,’ she shakes her head a little. ‘Oh my God, it’s a miracle, really. He just – I was checking up on him before leaving, he’d been restless all day, tossing and turning but he just opened his eyes now! This is such great news, guys!’

Everyone looks at Daryl.

The hunter nods at Michonne, ‘go on then, you and Carl check up on him.’

‘Don’t you want-‘

‘Go,’ he grunts and holds out his hands for Judith, ‘give me her.’

Carl swings his sister around one last time, ‘dad woke up, Judy! _He woke up_! I told you he would.’

Daryl hums as the little girl is transferred to his lap, ‘might have rubbish first words, but all Grimes’ are tough as nails.’

Carl looks at him for a moment, wobbling on his feet, and then he loops his arms around the hunter’s neck, hugging him tightly.

Daryl blinks and pats his back awkwardly, ‘yeah, yeah, go on now. Get goin’.’

Michonne gives him a fond look before walking towards the door, holding it open.

Carl grins and blushes slightly as he lets go, ‘okay.’ He grabs his sheriff’s hat and jacket, putting both on before running out of the house. ‘Race you there, Michonne!’

Ella takes a deep breath before following their laughter and running footsteps out.

‘This calls for a celebration,’ Abraham says as he pushes himself away from the table and rummage around in the kitchen. Three jars of moonshine are divided over several glasses which he passes around.

Everyone raises it.

‘Cheers!’ Maggie beams.

‘Booyah.’

 

 


	15. Suspecting and knowing

 

* * *

 

 

Rick comes home three days later. Still far too pale and thin, with hauntingly empty eyes, but he smiles broadly when Michonne helps him over the threshold of their new home where his family is waiting for him. Carl is pressed to his chest, he buries his nose in the boy’s dark hair, breathing him in hungrily. Carol hands him his daughter and the former cop needs to sit down on the couch, eyes clouded with tears as he strokes her blond hair.

‘Carl,’ the girl babbles because it’s her favorite and only word. Chubby hands reach for her father’s face.

‘That’s your brother, yeah, Carl,’ Rick chokes out, ‘hi, Judy.’

The rest of the family hangs back for a couple of minutes, except for Carl who leans on his father’s shoulder to laugh at his sister. Rosita serves slices of a cake someone in Genesis baked for the occasion while Glenn makes them all tea.

Then they get to greet their long-lost friend.

Carol gets a fierce hug, just like Maggie, while Glenn and Rick shake hands. Eugene just nods as he sinks into a chair but Tara boxes her fists against the ex-cop’s. Rosita kisses his cheek, Abraham claps him on the back.

Daryl uncurls from his position on the kitchen counter and falls to his feet, dragging himself over. Blue eyes almost hidden behind his bangs. He chews on his thumb as he glances at Rick and nods. ‘Hey, man.’

He wants to step past the couch to head over to the windowsill, his usual spot, because from there he can see every corner of the room as well as keep an eye on the road outside. But when he walks past, Rick gets up, Judith on his hip and the hunter stops for a second to see what he wants.

Rick brings him in for a rough hug. ‘Hey, brother,’ he mumbles as his fingers tighten on Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl flinches and stiffens but allows the touch. After a second, he even relaxes into it, patting Rick on the back. ‘Welcome home.’

‘Thank you,’ Rick slides away from him, all smiles and moist eyes as he looks down at Judith, bobbing her a little. ‘She’s gotten big.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl nods before moving on towards his perch in the window. He accepts a cup of steaming tea, just so he’ll have something to do with his hands when he can’t smoke inside.

There are lighthearted jokes, familiar jibes, while Rick settles down on the couch again, playing with his young daughter and keeping his son close. When the little girl starts to yawn, he lets her sleep in the crook of his arm. And then the blue eyes snap up at Michonne, a grade colder and more demanding.

‘What about this town?’ He asks. ‘Genesis?’

And Michonne tells him about the virus, how he’d gotten so ill that they had no choice but turn to the strange group. She tells about Daryl, how he’d kept them moving for as long as possible, about how Benjamin had found the camp, about the large gates opening up for them.

Carol tells him about the interviews, the houses, how Daryl had secured their place, how they’d gotten jobs, about the parties, about the people. Glenn grouses something about how backwards they are, how people talk about him, Michonne and Sasha behind their backs.

Sasha is quick to jump on the bandwagon, explaining to Rick that there is something wrong with this place. She mentions all the things that don’t add up anymore. How their shifts are always during the day, how they are rostered in for fewer hours at the greenhouses than the rest, how their rations are bigger than any other member in the community.

It ends in an argument about the guns.

Everyone agrees that they should keep them. Glenn and Carol glance around only to realize that Benjamin isn’t there to object.

An uneasy silence rings out.

‘We lost Noah,’ Glenn says after a while. ‘He took up a job as a runner, they were one man down and he just wanted to help. Me and Ben were on the other team. After that we split up between the teams to keep an eye on both of them.’

‘Where is Benjamin now?’

‘Xander took his team out the day before yesterday. We’re expecting them back around dinner time.’

‘It’s not like we’ll see him,’ Rosita mutters as she folds her arms and sulks. ‘Ben doesn’t even live here anymore.’ She rolls her eyes when everyone glances at Daryl. ‘Come on! We all know they broke up and Benjamin found himself a warm bed, okay? Everyone knows.’

Rick’s eyes narrow to slits.

‘He didn’t!’ Carl objects. ‘He’s always on _guard duty_! He trades those shifts to get my batteries charged!’

‘Oh he’s _charging batteries,_ all right!’ Rosita snarks back. ‘I saw them. Him and that Tina girl? They were all over each other! Abe, back me up here!’

Abraham rolls his eyes, ‘they were hugging, in broad day light in Xander’s living room, okay?’

It’s Carl’s time to scoff, ‘dude, have you _met_ Ben? He’s always hugging everyone! That doesn’t mean he’s…’ The tips of his ears turn red. ‘That he’s doing something with her!’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Carol objects.

‘Tell it to the marks on his neck,’ Rosita says. ‘’cause either he’s getting some loving in, or he’s worked over by a walker that lost its teeth!’

‘ _Enough_.’ Rick’s voice is like a cracking whip. Everyone falls silent. ‘Enough,’ the cop says, his tone softer now. ‘Carl, take Judith upstairs.’

His son nods and gathers his sister in his arms before darting up the stairs.

Rick scratches at his beard. ‘What about these people? Davis and Rihanna?’

‘Raeanne,’ Michonne corrects. ‘King and queen of the place. Stupid society people. Not bad,’ she admits when the blue eyes of their leader train on her. ‘Just stupid.’

‘Like everyone else in this place,’ Rosita mutters stubbornly.

They’re talking in circles now. Daryl stays for a couple more minutes, blending into the background until Maggie and Tara have a go at each other about how the rations are _supposed_ to be distributed and how they _are_ distributed. He lets his head loll back against the window, watching his family through the slits of his eyes.

Carol doesn’t say much. Occasionally she speaks up to defend Benjamin when the other man is dragged into another argument, unable to speak for himself, but mostly she just observes Rick’s reactions.

When he tries to slip away, grabbing his cigarettes so no one will ask any questions, he can feel Rick’s gaze burning on his back.

 

The air is cool when he sits down on the porch. He sits on the floorboards, head resting back against the banister. The spindles remind him of bars. Just any other prison he gets to stay at, like the trailer had been, the quarry, Georgia itself.

He smokes his cigarette in peace. Neighbors don’t notice him. They pass by, oblivious. Some cast a look through the windows, maybe trying to catch a glance of the famous Rick Grimes but the curtains are drawn and they walk on. He knows all their names. Knows that the guy’s name is Peter and he’s allergic to some kind of wheat but knows how to skin a rabbit. Josephine passes by, who works for the construction crew and knows how to play the guitar. Robin, who takes care of the elderly people down the road and misses the boat he used to own.

The fact that he knows their names, however, doesn’t mean that he gives a damn about them. He learned them because, apparently, it’s some sort of rule in such a small community to know everyone by their Christian names. Carol had scolded him when he still hadn’t known Peter’s name by week three. It’s part of their act and necessary in order to blend in.

It reminds him far too much of that small town he’d grown up in. Only now, he doesn’t have his infamous last name to hide behind.

Rick slips out of the house half an hour later. He’s walking slowly, hands on the banister as he shuffles over. With a groan, he lowers himself to the floorboards, sitting down next to Daryl. Long legs are kicked out before them, crossing at the ankles as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.

Daryl lights a cigarette. It dangles from his lower lip while plucks at his fingernails. Fingers twist nervously. He glances sideways at his brother but the former cop doesn’t say anything. He grabs the cigarette, flicks the ash off and squeezing the filter with his thumb and index finger. Smoke curling in his lungs, the sensation so familiar that it eases his nerves.

‘People do strange things when they’re scared.’

The hunter turns back to his friend. Small eyes behind the dark bangs of his hair.

Rick hasn’t opened his eyes. He looks tired. ‘Me and shane, we used to have this routine when interviewing suspects, you know? Good cop, bad cop. Shane was the bad cop with his quick temper, more imposing physique, I had to try to smooth things over after. Shane would put the fear of God in them and I’d be the one they would turn to. There were only three ways people reacted, really. Either they talked or they didn’t. It never worked on hardened criminals, of course, they knew the drill, that Shane was all talk and my kind smile wouldn’t save them either way. Worked on teenagers, first offenders, people who were already scared by what they’d done. They talked.’

‘What’s the third way then?’

‘They ratted.’ Rick opens his eyes and looks at his brother. ‘They’d done something, maybe dealed some drugs and got busted, stole a car, broke into someone’s home and when busted, they’d rat on someone else. The dealer, the guy that bought their stolen goods, just any bigger fish.’

Daryl nods.

‘Didn’t always work,’ Rick says. ‘We already had them on something substantial and some were too stupid to think about letting their lawyers make the deal, just threw information at us and expected something in return. That’s not how the system worked.’

Daryl snorts because the whole system didn’t work, but he doesn’t say it. Instead he ends his cigarette on the floorboards before flicking the bud into their perfect garden.

‘They were pretty quick to turn on Ben in there.’

Sharp eyes glance up.

Rick shifts, drawing up one leg to he can rest his wrist on the knee. Blue eyes meet blue eyes. ‘That he’s real close with the runners? He’s never around anymore. You two broke up and he’s found somewhere else to lay his head down?’ Rick tilts his head to the side, ‘Carl says he’s not talking. That he doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore, he’s not laughing, he’s not around, he’s not doing anything anymore.’

Daryl doesn’t answer.

‘Hey,’ Rick ducks his head low to catch his brother’s gaze. ‘I know what you did for my kids, for my family. You brought them here and you kept them safe. They’re fed, clothed, because of you. We survived because you led them here.’

The hunter shrugs and bites on his thumb. ‘Weren’t nothin’, man. Told ya I got them.’

‘You did,’ Rick nods. ‘And I’m grateful, but if this place is bad? If this is hurting us in any way, I need to know, Daryl.’

‘The kids are fine,’ Daryl says. ‘Safe.’ He nods and bites down on his nail, tugging at it with his teeth.

Rick frowns, ‘I know they are. You wouldn’t let them stay here if they weren’t.’

‘It’s a good place. Good people. They gave us food. Patched you up,’ Daryl mumbles around his fingers, eyes darting away. ‘Don’t got to worry about nothin’, man.’

‘So they’re lying? About Ben?’

‘No. We went our own ways, is all. He’s still looking out for us, little things, ya know? Batteries, for Carl, candy bars too. We got here? Hmm. Wrapped this whole town around his finger in under two seconds,’ Daryl can’t help but let a little bit of pride bleed into the words. ‘’s all community, sharin’, social, ya know? He’s doin’ all right.’

Rick hums and looks away, ‘so he got himself a girlfriend?’

Daryl tenses. ‘Dunno, man. Haven’t seen him in a while. Could be.’

‘Yeah,’ the former cop nods and then shakes his head, ‘see, this virus? It affected my lungs, my blood, my heart, but not my fuckin’ brain, man. You’re my brother. Hey,’ Rick ducks his head again, forcing Daryl to meet his eye, ‘you are. And I know you. And I know them, all right? I’ve booked people who were caught red-handed and they didn’t look as guilty as all of them in there,’ he jerks his head towards the living room. ‘So what are you all guilty of, hmm? Did you kick him out? He did something?’

‘No, man.’

‘You two fall out or something? They backed you and he left, is that it?’

‘No.’

‘A’right,’ Rick nods. One hand comes up to scratch at his beard. Pale blue eyes are hooded when he tilts his head back to rest against the boarding again. ‘I’ve got all day, man.’

Daryl sighs and is painfully reminded of Benjamin, lounging on his bed with a book and pointedly flipping page after page until he’d talk. The metallic taste of blood on his tongue shocks him a little. He draws his hand back, frowning at his thumb. There’s a small gash. Blood trickles down to his wrists. He licks at it, lapping the droplets up and sucking on the wound.

‘It’s all messed up,’ he says when the bleeding has stopped. He refuses to look at Rick, doesn’t want to see the disappointment there. ‘Didn’t even notice at first, ya know? Good lord,’ he mutter while rubbing the hell of his hand on his forehead. ‘Back at the prison, I was always comin’ down on Michonne for leaving. Felt like she was runnin’ when we needed her around. ‘s what I did.’ He lets his head thud against the wood. ‘Just dumped this all on them and took off.’

Rick is watching him closely, lips pressed into a thin line.

‘They say it was me who got them here? Hmm. Got them through them gates, got them settled and then just took off. Let them stew.’ He plucks at his fingernails. ‘Thought it would be best, ya know? Glenn, Maggie, Carol, they could belong here. Carl and Judith needed this. I’d just fuck it up in the end, so I left them to it. Went out into the woods. Minded my own business.’ He laces his fingers together, tugs, scratches himself with his sharp fingernails. ‘But I knew.’

‘Knew what?’

‘Somethin’ weren’t right,’ Daryl nods. ‘From that first interview, I fuckin’ knew somethin’ was wrong. He wouldn’t talk about it. Told me not to worry about it. We lost Noah. After that, he just… He was just gone, ya know? Most of us didn’t even see him anymore. He was either on a run or on guard duty, or helping someone out in the community. First couple of days, they all didn’t notice. Thought that was just him, right? But when he did come home, when they saw him out there? He’s not the same.’

Rick makes a soft noise of understanding. ‘Carl told me.’

‘He comes to see me sometimes, at night so no one notices. Slips into my room when I’m asleep. Just reads his books, talks about his day, bitches about his chores. He hates this place.’ Daryl wipes his nose on his shoulder. ‘Talks about killing them, wishes he could but he knows we need this place.’

‘What are they doing to him?’

Daryl rubs at his eyebrow. ‘He’s got bruises.’

‘They hit him? The runners?’

‘I don’t know, man.’

‘Daryl.’

‘I _don’t_ ,’ Daryl says forcefully. ‘I just ran, okay? He told me not to worry and I just buried my head in the damn sand. Came across him one night, didn’t I? Fuck, he had a black eye and everything, told me it had been a mistake. Could have told me he’d taken a tumble down the stairs, walked into a cabinet, damn, I’ve heard all them excuses before. But he told me that he’d walked into a fist, that he’d gotten into trouble and got roughened up and I just… it made it even easier to forget, okay? To ignore, ‘cause that’s what I know; ya open yar mouth too often? Someone else will shut it for ya, ain’t no doubt about it. And he was laughing, joking, I thought it was just… I dunno. Didn’t want to think about what it could be.

‘Saw him with Xander.’ The words burn on his tongue. ‘That little jacked-up shit of a brother. Got a hand in everything here, he’s the fuckin’ dealer of this town. Cigarettes, batteries, medicine. Thought it was him, at first. The one who was roughening him up? Hmm.’

‘But he’s with Xander now?’

‘Guess,’ Daryl shrugs. ‘He’s always at his place and everyone knows. Of us, everyone knows and they’re just…. They know something ain’t right and they’re just snapping at each other. Know horses get scared when they smell blood? ‘s just like that. They just don’t know where the blood’s comin’ from.’

‘But why would he…’ Rick starts and then his voice breaks when realization hits home hard. The blue eyes widen slightly, then his whole body slumps, curling in on itself for a moment. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl breathes because he knows what Rick is thinking about.

‘Jesus,’ Rick moves a hand up to cover his eyes, hiding the dark rings, the blue irises. ‘ _Medicine_ ,’ he breathes like Daryl’s words  Think it is some sort of trade?’

‘Sharin’ is carin’.’ Daryl’s voice is flat. He’s too tired, too hurt, too confused for any emotion to bleed into his intonation.

Rick lets his fingers dig into his eyelids, rubbing for a while as he thinks. Then he blinks and looks at his brother. ‘I made you choose. After we came back from Woodbury, I made you choose between your family and us.’

Daryl looks away. ‘Weren’t the difference, just didn’t realize it at the time. Old blood, new blood. Ain’t no difference no more.’

‘Still,’ Rick says. ‘I made you choose between your blood and your kin.’ He stares at his boots, his hands, turns his wedding ring over and over and over. ‘Benjamin’s a good man. Better than most. Better than me.’ His head thuds against the wood, defeated. ‘He’d never make you choose between him and your family.’

The hunter draws up a knee and rests his elbow on it. His dark hair hides most of his expression.

‘So what’s the deal? The runners found out about him, about him being gay? Rough him up for it, but he keeps his mouth shut because Xander leads the runners and he controls who gets what. He causes trouble, I don’t get any meds. That’s what went down?’

‘Think so. I don’t know, man,’ Daryl buries his hands in his hand. Nails scraping over his scalp in punishment.

The former sheriff is silent for a long time. They just sit there, shoulders pressing together as the world turns without them. Then Rick looks at his best friend, the blue sharp and cutting. ‘We’ll make this right,’ he promises. ‘Whatever happened, whatever is going on, brother, we’ll make it right. Benjamin might be a good man, but I’m not.’

Daryl scoffs at that. ‘Neither am I. We’ve done some fucked up shit, man.’ He glances sideways. ‘We ain’t good men no more. They don’t survive.’

Rick tilts his head to the side. ‘They do. Carl’s good. He came back. Benjamin is good. He is. Someone told me a while ago that the weak people had inherited the earth, that the good and bad would die, but they were wrong. It’s the _good_ people. People like Benjamin, like Carl, are going to inherit this world because they got bad people watching over them. People like us. And we’ll make this right, Daryl.’

The promise in those words is haunting. It reminds Daryl of that train car, that small beam of light, of his brother peering out into the darkness that was Terminus, his voice made of steel and murder.

They’re fucking with the wrong people.

 

The sound of cars rolling up to their house makes everyone fall silent. Daryl is sitting on the kitchen counter with a plate in his lap, Tara is leaning against his back, head on his shoulder as she had listened to the story Carl was telling his father while having dinner. The rest of the group is sitting at the table. Glenn and Abraham now rise to their feet, but the curtains are open to let the last sunrays in and save energy and they recognize the rides of Xander’s runner team.

The door of the last car flies open and Benjamin hops out. A backpack is thrown on as he darts towards the front door. He vault over the first car, ignoring at the runner’s calls as he bounds up the steps and burst through the door. A smile is breaking out on his face as he spots Rick at the head of the table.

The former cop answers it, beaming at the younger man as he rises to his feet.

‘ _Rick_!’ Benjamin runs over and crashes into his friend’s chest. He loops his hands around the slim waist and buries his face into his neck. ‘Fuck, never do that again. We’ve been worried sick, man. Tina just told me that you’d woken up.’

Rick laughs and holds on to his shoulders, one hand coming up to rest on the blond hair. ‘Hey bud,’ he smiles. ‘Three days now, but I’m still rusty.’

‘I bet,’ Benjamin tightens the hug for a second before stepping back and wobbling excitedly on the balls of his feet. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Good! God, it’s so good to see you up and about. I mean, don’t get me wrong here, you look like death warmed over, twice, but damn,’ he laughs, the skin around his green eyes wrinkling, ‘it’s good to see you’re awake. So what’s all this, huh?’ He looks around the room. ‘Belated welcome home party?’

The table is decked out like it usually is on one of their family diner nights, complete with candle light and food. Carl is bend over his plate, pushing a bit of rabbit around with his fork. Maggie hasn’t touched her food. Abraham is nursing a jar of moonshine, but his eyes are sharp as he glances at the blond man.

‘Lost your tongues?’ Benjamin asks with a smirk as he leans on Carl’s shoulder to snatch an apple from a bowl. ‘Yay, Rick’s home, Ben didn’t get himself murdered on his run, yay! You all got anything like that for me? I got you some batteries, Carl,’ he tells the boy, jostling his shoulders a bit before glancing at Rick with a leering smile. ‘That always gets a reaction.’

‘I don’t want them,’ Carl mutters.

Benjamin blinks. Glances at Rick again. ‘But not that one. What, why not?’

‘We need to talk,’ Rick says. He leans with one hand on the table, tired and still a little unstable on his feet.

‘About what?’ The sound of him biting into his apple is the only noise in the house right now. ‘You look damn tired, man, sit down before you fall down. Sorry for talking with my mouth full, guys, but someone’s gotta fill this awkward silence. Was this another secret family meeting? I can leave, you know.’ He shrugs a little and munches on the apple.

‘Benjamin,’ Rick says softly, his voice breaking on the word. It almost sounds like a plea.

The apple falls away from pink lips as Benjamin lowers his hand slowly. Green eyes first narrow in suspicion but then widen in what can’t be anything but fear. He takes a step back, away from the table. Carl glances at him over his shoulder, blue eyes rid-rimmed and filled with anger and hurt.

Tara shifts when she feels Daryl tense, giving him more space. The hunter is watching the interaction like a hawk. Keen eyes dark and brooding.

‘We need to talk,’ the former cop says again, tilting his head a little to the side.

‘I’m sure you have a lot to discuss,’ the blond nods. ‘I’ll leave you all to it, then.’

‘Take ya shirt off.’

Benjamin’s gaze snaps to Daryl. Betrayal flashes over his face, anger, then grim determination before he laughs. ‘Of all the times I have dreamed of you saying that, Daryl Dixon,’ he rolls his eyes, ‘but there are kids here and I don’t want to scar them for life, so if you want to take this to the bedroom, I’m more than happy to –‘

‘Stop it with the jokes,’ Michonne snaps. ‘We know. Daryl told us.’

Benjamin pales a little. ‘ _Suspecting and knowing are not the same_. Rick Riordan.’

‘Something happened while I was out,’ Rick says carefully, one hand up, palm down like he’s reaching for the younger man. ‘You need to tell us. We can’t help if you won’t tell us.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Oh, so they’re not beating you up because they know you’re gay?’ Rosita asks skeptically.

Benjamin stares at her for a second. Then he laughs. It sounds all wrong and far too cruel. ‘You think _that_ is the problem? Really? Oh, bless your little hearts. No, no,’ he laughs when Maggie opens her mouth, ‘no, this is too precious. See, I told Daryl before; you don’t want to know, okay? Enjoy the food, enjoy your new life. Get better, Rick. Carl, be a little more thankful and play your damn games, okay? See you all later.’

‘Whatever it is _, it ends_ _now_.’ Rick looks at him with dark eyes. His voice is like ice, cold and unforgiving, causing everyone at the table to shiver.

‘You can barely stand. What are you going to do about it?’

‘You think that the people who beat up my family get to live?’

Benjamin narrows his eyes, ‘and what about the people who got you those med, huh? What if they’re the same people?’

‘They’re not.’

Daryl knows that Rick is bluffing now, trying to edge the younger man on in order to get the full story. Good cop, bad cop, only Shane isn’t here and Benjamin is serving as the devil’s advocate here. He watches, observes, and doesn’t like the way Benjamin’s eyes are hallow and empty.

‘No, they’re not,’ Benjamin agrees. ‘But this is the hand we’re dealt, okay? Here,’ he holds up one hand, ‘we got the people who beat up your family member, okay? And they’re ignorant and stupid and your playground bullies. And here,’ he holds up the other, ‘we have the big fish. The one who ruins lives while saving others. Which one are you planning to take on, hmm?’

‘All of them.’

‘Yeah,’ Benjamin nods while dropping both hands to his sides, ‘because you don’t have a little girl to worry about, or a young man who gets to go to fucking school like a normal teenager. Right, sorry, I forget why I was doing this in the first place.’ He shakes his head and walks away. At the door he seems to change his mind, temper flaring. He spins around again, walking back to the table. ‘Who the fuck do you think I am? I don’t need you to barge in here trying to be the damn hero, okay? I’ve got it under control!’

‘Ya call that control?’ Daryl asks snidely, ‘fifty bruises on ya chest?’

Benjamin throws the apple on Carol’s plate and undoes the buttons of his shirt with angry, jerky motions. He shrugs out of the shirt. His chest is a patchwork of colors.

Rosita inhales sharply. Glenn winces.

‘Is this what you all wanted to see? Yeah, yeah, they found out that I bat for the other team when the occasion arises and no, they didn’t like it one bit so they push me around. They also found out that I’m pretty quick on my feet and that my knife skills are on point, okay, so I’m good to have around. They don’t rough me up too bad because they _need_ me. So yeah, a couple of bruises, some sneers and crude jokes, oh save me Rick, _save me_.’ He laughs, but it sounds all wrong. ‘My whole family died and I’m so in love with someone I can’t be with and we almost died getting here and I was fine during that mess, but now they’re teasing me! They’re teasing and everyone is losing their shit! _Save me_.’

‘What about Xander?’

‘Wat about him?’ Benjamin asks as he closes his shirt again. He doesn’t meet Rick’s eye.

‘He’s the other part of that equation, right? The runners beat you up, but he ruins lives while saving others. How has he ruined your life, Ben?’

‘He hasn’t. It was a metaphor. Get some rest now you know my awful secret.’

But it’s Rick’s turn to smile. A mirror image of Benjamin’s laugh, all wrong and far too cruel. ‘No,’ he says, shaking his head a little. ‘No, you see, I know this game. I was a cop. You think you can weasel out of this by giving us one small truth? No, you’re not getting off the hook that easily. That isn’t the whole story.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Benjamin asks. ‘I told you; they rough me up because I want to suck Daryl’s dick, what the fuck else do you want me to say?’

You’re hiding something else. I want the _whole_ story!’

Benjamin stares at him for a couple of seconds. ‘No, no you don’t.’

‘So there is something you’re not telling us?’ Rick asks. ‘Something about Xander?’

‘What are you even trying to do here?’ the blond says with a small frown. ‘What, you’re a former cop so you think that if you just get rid of them, throw them in jail or six feet under, and everything’s going to be fine? You can’t make this right, Rick! Your kids are fine, your family is fine. You’re back on your feet! Be thankful and shut up about it!’

‘My family is _not_ fine,’ Rick snarls as he grabs the younger man’s arm and yanks him closer. ‘You’re not fine!’

‘ _Of course I’m not! Gabriel sold you out_!’ Benjamin blinks. He seems surprised by his own outburst as he rocks back on his heels. After a calming deep breath, he says; ‘he sold you out. That night of the interviews? He told Xander that you should not be allowed to stay. That like Eden, this place would get ruined by snakes and men. You all as the false apostles of righteousness. The devils, disguised as an angel of light. You don’t deserve this, according to him. You’ve done things. You all have done _unspeakable_ things.

Benjamin runs a hand through his hair. He looks devastated. ‘And you all keep saying; _these people are dumb, they’re stupid_ , but Xander is _not_! Sharing is caring? No, no. He doesn’t share, he _trades_. So what if someone whispered secrets in his ear? Huh?’ Benjamin pushes at Rick’s shoulder, ‘he asked me how much your life was worth! What I would give to see our family pull through, and I made someone I love a promise, I fucking promised him I’d do whatever it takes. _Whatever_ it takes! So yeah,’ he laughs bitterly, shaking his head, ‘I’m sorry I’ve been away and I let Daryl walk away from me and I wasn’t here to hear Judith’s first word and I can’t bear to meet your eyes anymore because… God.’ He pulls at his hair and takes a couple steps back, ‘because I feel fucking filthy, dirty, fucking _disgusting_ , but it kept you safe and it got you meds.’

‘No,’ Rick breathes. ‘Tell me he didn’t…’

Benjamin laughs, ‘yeah. He did. And I let him because the people who’re chanting _it’s an abomination_ the loudest, usually want a piece of this.’ He bites on his lower lip, pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans so it sags low. He wobbles on his feet.

‘You let him…’ Rick trails off, hand going to his knife, unsteady and unsure.

‘Yeah.’ Benjamin tilts his chin higher, defiantly. ‘And I’m never going to apologize for it. Not to you.’

Rick looks over his shoulder, to his brother who’s staring at the blond man, eyes empty and face blank.

‘So do you still want to kill them all?’ Benjamin asks. ‘Throw them in jail? How, exactly, are you going to make this right, Rick?’

‘I didn’t know…’

‘Of course you didn’t. No-one did. That’s what’s keeping this place standing, what keeps it safe. Secrets. And making Xander happy. And hey,’ Benjamin throws his hands up, back away with a laugh. ‘If he likes this,’ he waves at his body, ‘if that’s what it takes to earn those meds you needed? Hell, that’s fine. It’s all good, man, but don’t you all sit here and complain that I’m never home. And don’t you ever dare to suggest that I do not love Daryl, because, honestly? If you hadn’t been his brother, I wouldn’t have done it. If you were just any other man, I wouldn’t have done it because it wouldn’t have been worth it. I don’t owe you. I don’t owe you anything, Rick. You didn’t save my life, I saved yours back at the library, and now here. _I_ saved _you_.’

‘You did,’ Rick nods. He sounds dazed.

‘And you’re welcome,’ Benjamin snaps. ‘You are all welcome!’ He turns on his heels and stalks out of the kitchen, heads over to the backdoor, slamming it behind him.

 

Everyone is silent.

Rick sinks down on his chair. He plants his elbows on his knees, covering his eyes with his hands and breathing through his nose.

Carl looks from his dad to Michonne, unsure but too afraid to ask anything.

Maggie is looking at Glenn, who is looking right back with empty eyes. He twitches violently when she reaches out and traces his cheek.

Slowly, all heads turn towards Daryl, who is frozen on the spot. His breathing is all wrong, far too shallow and then suddenly too deep, like he’s drowning.

Tara reaches for him, a hesitant hand on his shoulder. It’s like she flips a switch.

He hops down the counter, lands with a heavy thud, twirls around and swipes the plates from the surface. They crash to the floor. He curses, slams his hands down on the cool marble and leans on it for a second, head bowed. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, but it does nothing to calm his rage.

Another curse. A hand balled into a fist slams down once more. He can’t even feel it, doesn’t feel anything as he pushes himself away and runs out of the kitchen, after Benjamin.

The door slams open, closed. He thunders down the small set of stairs and spots his friend a few houses over. Angry strides, then he break into a run.

He slams into Benjamin, twirling him around and pushing him up against the house. A hand balled into that hoodie, a trembling hand on a heaving chest.

The green eyes are wide with surprise.

‘What the hell!’

‘Are you fucking him?’ Daryl asks because he needs to know. He _needs_ to know.

‘What?’ Benjamin blinks like he can’t quite focus on the hunter.

‘ _Are you fucking Xander_?’

And then the worst thing happens on Benjamin’s face. He’s not outraged. He’s not angry or upset, not defiant, not sad, not disgusted. He is not scared, not despairing, not ashamed. He is not sorry.

Instead, his face breaks out into a smile.

Daryl can feel his heart shatter. A sharp, stinging pain inside his chest.

Benjamin laughs.

He laughs. Tilts his head back so it thuds against the wall behind him and _laughs_.

‘ _Of course_ I’m fucking him.’


	16. Promise

 

* * *

 

 

Benjamin is standing in front of the window. A soft orange light illuminates his face, causing his eyes to turn a strange shade of not quite brown. The tips of his hair are pale blond, the roots almost red in this light. He plays with the dog tags around his neck. Lean fingers curling around the metal beads, tighter and tighter and tighter until they leave white marks on his skin.

Daryl is sitting on the bed. He stares at his boots and doesn’t know what to say. His dark hair shield his expression, hiding the blankness from view. There’s a hole in his boot, he notices. He doesn’t know when that happened. Maybe he snagged it on a rock earlier. It doesn’t matter anyway.

‘The interviews were taped,’ Benjamin says. ‘Gabriel went before me and he sold you all out to Xander. Sold me out too. False light, remember? In exchange for safety, more provisions and the privilege to become the new priest of this place, he told Xander about all of you, and me. I guess he figured out that Xander was running this show before we all did.’ He sighs, ‘I was so busy charming Raeanne and Davis, I never even considered him a threat until I had to do my interview. He asked me how badly I wanted that information to stay between us. What I was willing to do.’

The hunter rubs at his eyebrows and nods. ‘So ya offered…’ He can’t even say it.

‘I said no.’ Benjamin stares out over the town. The sun is dying behind the walls. ‘He kept trying to convince me, threatening that he would give the tape to Davis, that he would throw us out. He offered the deal but I said no. I said no and Noah died.’

Daryl freezes.

‘He came to talk to me at that memorial service, told me that that was the price for the meds, the roof over our heads, the safety of this place. But of course there was another way to pay off that debt. Rick would have been next. Or Carl. Judith, maybe. Glenn would have been easiest, of course.’ Benjamin rubs at his chin with his hand. ‘It’s been going on for months and months, ever since they found this place. Those walkers we found on the road signs? They’d said no, too.’ He closes his eyes and his foreheads thuds against the window. ‘They were probably the last ones left to pay the debt. Or they were their Noah. I don’t know.’

Daryl remembers Maggie telling him that a lot of people had joined the runners to put a gun in their mouths. Only now he realizes that they hadn’t been the ones pulling the trigger.

‘So I changed my mind. I told him I’d do it.’ Benjamin leans on the window sill and sighs. ‘And I did it.’

‘Did what?’

‘Let him fuck me,’ Benjamin says with a little shrug.

‘Everyone has done terrible things,’ Daryl says softly. He presses the palms of his hands into his closed eyes. ‘Why would Davis send us away for it?’

‘Because they’re weak and stupid. They found this place right after everything went to shit. Half of them have never even taken a walker down, let alone other people. Your three questions? You wouldn’t pass on them here. I’ve killed people too. Five people to save Carl and Michonne. To save myself. Self-defense? Maybe. How many have you killed?’

‘A lot.’

Rick?’

‘More.’

‘Davis will not understand. He doesn’t know what it takes to survive now. Xander knows because he’s outside those walls, but if he wants to sell you out? Who do you think is going to win? Us? Or his blood?’

‘So he fucked you and gave you shit?’

‘Hmh. It’s a trade. He keeps his mouth shut and makes sure Gabriel doesn’t run to Davis, and I…. I hold my end of the deal. I’m not sorry for that. It got us to stay and it got everyone the meds they needed. He has a whole stash of medicine in his cellar. He had the kind Rick needed, Ella was running low so I… I got them for him.’

‘Ella told me.’

‘About the deal?’ Benjamin asks with a raised eyebrow.

‘That you got him the meds. That he has a stash,’ Daryl corrects. ‘She thinks the system works.’

‘It does.’

‘Bullshit,’ Daryl spits out.

‘Got us in, kept us safe, made us well,’ Benjamin shrugs. ‘It works.’

‘Benji,’ Daryl whispers. His tone is almost pleading.

The younger man finally turns around and folds his arms in front of his chest. His chin up high, an angry, defiant look in his eyes. Daryl would know that look anywhere, has seen it in the mirror so many times that it makes him sick. That hardened gaze that should hide the self-disgust but doesn’t.

‘No,’ the blond says sharply. ‘You don’t get to look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like you’re sorry!’

‘I am.’

‘No. Stop it. _Stop_! This doesn’t change a thing! This doesn’t matter!’

‘He… That guy fuckin’ raped ya!’

‘He just offered the deal, okay? He just offered and I said yes. I didn’t get raped! I _chose_ this.’

Daryl stares. ‘Have you lost your mind, boy?’

‘Ain’t no _boy_ ,’ Benjamin snaps back. ‘That’s exactly the point! I’m a grown man, I knew exactly what was going on the moment he made those comments and I made the deal, okay? I said it; yes, you can fuck me six ways from Sunday as long as my family gets whatever they need and want, as long as no one touches them, as long as Daryl never finds out. I said _yes_!’

‘That don’t make it right,’ Daryl mutters.

‘Nothing ever will.’

Daryl sets his jaw and runs a hand through his hair. He scratches at the back of his neck, just so he won’t have to look up and meet that gaze of green-steel. The coldness that was never there before. It rings inside his words, clings to syllables like ice to glass.

‘It doesn’t matter whether it’s right,’ Benjamin tells him. ‘It matters that it _worked_. I’m not proud of what I did, but I’m proud of that. Rick survived. They all survived. Noah’s death is on me. I know that. If I’d just said yes immediately, it wouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t,’ Daryl tries but his voice fails him. It’s too raw. Broken, almost. He doesn’t know what to say because his mind and heart have melted together in a muddle of regret, sorrow and utter despair at the situation. It’s tearing apart. A headache in his heart.

‘You’re right. It’s done. Being sorry doesn’t change anything.’

‘I could have helped.’ Daryl looks up now, through his bangs. ‘Why didn’t you…’ Come to me, ask me for help, tell me, trust me.

‘Because you _would_ have helped.’ Benjamin says as he shifts his weight a little. His fingers dig into his upper arms, holding on tightly to himself. ‘And the whole deal would not have gone through, Rick wouldn’t have gotten his medicine.’

‘I would have killed Xander.’

‘And Davis would have killed you, or Rose or Carl, or he would have thrown us out. I couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t tell you.’

That hurts more than Daryl will ever admit. Mostly because he knows it’s true. If he’d know at the beginning, it would have never happened. He knows that now. Knows that he loves this man, loves him like only a Dixon can love. In that greedy, self-destructive kind of way, that selfish, that everything-and-then-some, that never-enough kind of way. Forever. The way his dad had loved booze, Merle danger and his mom fire.

He would have done anything to stop this. And he would have done it before even thinking about the consequences.

‘Carol knew.’ Benjamin lets his head thud back against the glass. He looks at the ceiling. ‘She knew from the moment I totally lost my cool when they were talking about those guns. The ones Sasha took? I fucking lost it. I was so mad. So _mad_. It was like… fuck… I’m doing it for all you guys and I’m not expecting any thanks, okay? But don’t jeopardize it, because I refuse to go through this for nothing. It can’t be for nothing. It _can’t_.’ He closes his eyes and sighs. ‘That’s why you couldn’t know. Rose couldn’t, nobody who would put a stop to it.’

Daryl bites on his thumb. ‘So Carol knew? Who else?’

‘Nobody for sure,’ the blond mutters. ‘Most of us just thought the runners were beating me up, right? Nobody from Genesis knows, thank God.’

‘Thank God?’ The hunter echoes but his words are hallow.

‘It’s humiliating enough that my family knows.’ The green eyes snap open again. ‘It’s bad enough that they know, I don’t need the whole town looking at me like I’m some sad little something that needs to be saved. This was my choice. I’ll live with the consequences. It’s all good.’

‘Ain’t.’

‘No,’ Benjamin agrees as he sinks to the floor. He sits on his haunches, runs his hands through his blond hair. ‘It’s so fucked up that I don’t even know what to do anymore. What to say. I’m so sorry and I’m not. I’m not, but I am,’ he swallows thickly.

Daryl watches his friend.

‘I thought we were going to make it,’ Benjamin says and his voice breaks on the words. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand. ‘’s so fucking stupid. The whole world has gone to shit and I thought we were going to grow old together.’ He laughs bitterly. ‘I thought we were going to beat this, all of this. That one day I would walk up a set of stairs, open a front door and it would be ours. Our place. That I would wake up to those blue eyes every morning. That you would get to call me stupid in a thousand southern expressions that I don’t know.’ There are tears in his eyes. He wipes them away with an angry motion. ‘But I fucked it all up because that’s what I do.’

Daryl gets up and slowly walks over. He kneels down before Benjamin.

‘My sister died to save me,’ Benjamin tells him through a haze of tears. ‘And I went and became Genesis’ number one whore. Yay. She must be so proud!’

‘Stop.’

‘I can’t,’ the blond says. ‘Don’t you get that? It’s _all_ I think about. She must be real proud and you fucking hate me. God. Oh, and bless Noah’s memory because while we were all praying for his soul and everything, I was making a deal about letting some guy fuck me up the ass for some Goddamn medicine. He must feel real special up in heaven.’

‘That’s when ya made the deal?’

‘Yeah. He came up to me during the service and I told him I’d changed my mind.’

Daryl’s eyes widen a fraction, then narrow.

‘What?’ Benjamin asks as he dries his own eyes.

‘Ya came to see me after the service. And I…’

‘Yeah,’ the blond draws one leg up, bending it so he can rest his elbow on his knee. ‘First time in a long time I fucking felt at peace in this place.’

‘ _Peace_?’ Daryl echoes. He sounds horrified. ‘Ya just made a deal to… and I made ya…’

‘Wait, no,’ Benjamin’s head jerks up, eyes impossibly green. ‘No! Jesus, you didn’t _make_ me do anything. See? This is what I was talking about! _Don’t look at me like that_! I’m not some sad little victim here. I love you and I loved what we did, Jesus, Daryl. You’re _nothing_ like Xander.’

‘Just made ya suck my dick, huh?’

‘You _asked_ me to and I said: _hell yeah_! Because I love you.’

‘Right,’ Daryl scoffs.

‘What? You think Xander is fucking _me_?’

‘You just fuckin’ said he was!’

Benjamin rolls his eyes, ‘of course he’s fucking me, but it ain’t _me_ , all right? It’s some generic blond-haired dumb bastard who can smile prettily when he’s told to do so! Who can take it like a champ and not bitch about anything, okay? He’s fucking him! He’s fucking Benjamin! Benjamin who’s stupid and never has an opinion on anything and who’s easy and weak and scared and all the other things that make him the easiest target because that’s what he needs to think, okay? He needs to _think_ that he’s in control. But I am. One day he’s going to realize that he’s been fucking an empty shell and he’s going to die knowing that I got what I wanted from him and not the other way around.’

Daryl leans back and watches how Benjamin tries to catch his breath.

‘It’s not me,’ the blond says, sounding a bit too desperate. ‘Why do you think I came to see you at night? It’s exhausting to be someone else. I had to bite my tongue all the time and with you…?’ He laughs a little. ‘I can never be anyone else with you around. It was always me, with you.’

Daryl remembers the night time visits. The stories shared in the dark, even when Benjamin had thought him to be asleep. A greedy part of him loves that those stories are his and his alone. It feeds the fire in his heart and knuckles, that burning, consuming desire to feed Xander to walkers. To carve his heart out, to beat him until the other man will never get up again. He wants to feel the life leaving that body, wants to smash that cocky grin off his face, feel those bones break with each strike. He wants blood on his knuckles. On his bolts, on his knife.

‘I bailed on you guys a long time ago,’ Benjamin says with a sigh. ‘It was like having to catch the last night-bus home bound, I was gone so fast you never even saw me leave.’

But Daryl did see. He knows that now. Every time he saw Benjamin sitting next to Xander, silent and without his trademark smile, he’d been looking at a different person. Another Benjamin. Someone who had taken his place so expertly, so silently that hardly anyone had noticed until it was far too late.

But he had known. And he’d done nothing about it.

‘Whatever it takes, right?’ Benjamin asks him. ‘That’s what we promised each other. I thought it just meant giving you up for a couple of months. Never thought I would lose you all together. You and me, both. Maybe I should write my own name on that damn church. Here lies Benjamin who betrayed everything he believed in and became a slut for some medicine. Rest in peace.’

Daryl shifts and sits down beside his friend. Their backs against the wall. Their shoulders brushing. He looks at him. ‘We ain’t ashes,’ he says.

Benjamin doesn’t answer. He plucks at his fingernails. There are dark circles around his eyes, like bruises. The pale lips are raw, his cheeks still a little red from when he’d wiped away his tears. ‘I tried stealing the meds,’ he says after a couple of minutes. ‘I tried getting the tape too, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s not about that anymore. If Gabriel talks and Xander won’t back us up, we’re goners.’

‘Let me talk to Davis.’

‘No.’

‘Benji…’

‘I said _no_ ,’ Benjamin gets up and walks over to the other side of the room. He leans against the wall again.

Daryl gets up too because he hates to be at an disadvantage, even when around friends. ‘Benji, let me-‘

‘No. Whatever you’re going to say, just; no. Let me do this, okay? I can do this. I have been doing this for months now and it works. Can you even imagine? Judith will go to school. She’ll grow up behind these walls and her dad will watch her grow old in peace. Carl will, too. They can be happy here.’

‘Rick knows what ya did. Ya think he’ll ever be happy here?’

‘I’m not his brother. I’m nothing to them. Just a means to an end.’

Daryl walks over to his friend, slow, measured steps. ‘He done told ya; you’re part of this family. His family.’

‘Be serious. He wants his family to be safe. You seriously think he’s going to put his kids in danger just because I’m taking it up the ass for some guy? Because I gave my consent, because I chose the damn deal?’ He laughs. ‘Nah. I know my place. And I wouldn’t want it, anyway. Hell, I gave myself up to keep his kids safe. Fuck, I gave _you_ up. I told you; it can’t be for nothing.’

‘Ya didn’t give me up.’

Benjamin shrugs. ‘I tried to hold onto you, but… It doesn’t last. We’ll never get our happy ending. Well, _I_ won’t.’

Daryl frowns.

‘You ruined me,’ Benjamin laughs as he looks away, a faint blush on his cheeks. ‘I fucking love you and I’ll never find anyone else. It’s so weird. _We_ are so weird. Like, before or after the apocalypse, I don’t think anyone would have thought we’d ever end up together, you know? Glenn and Maggie? Yeah, they could have found each other. But us? Nah.’

The hunter rummages through his pocket and takes out his cigarettes. He lights one.

‘Do you know Kristine? She runs the school.’ Benjamin explains and Daryl nods because he does know her. ‘She likes you.’

‘She don’t know me.’

‘She’s nice.’

Blue eyes are narrowed. ‘What’re ya tryin’ to do?’

‘I’m just saying,’ Benjamin shrugs, ‘she likes you and she’s nice. Maybe you should go and see her sometime.’

‘Ya settin’ me up with some lady from down the road now?’

‘Yeah, guess.’

‘Why?’

‘How many times do I need to say it? She’s nice. And the way she’s been looking at you? She think you’re fifty shades of _nice_ , okay?’ Benjamin snaps as he walks over to the window and opens it with jerky movements. The wind is cold but neither of them mind. Daryl walks over and hops onto the ledge. He blows the smoke out of the room, out into the open air. ‘We will never get a happy ending. The least you can do is have yours, okay? She’s nice. Nobody here will ever deserve you, but she’s nice, so that’s something.’

‘Done told ya,’ he tells his friend as he watches clouds drift by. ‘Forever and ever and only you.’

Benjamin sags down next to him. ‘This is so fucked up. I love you too, by the way, but you know that. I want to say that nothing has changed, or ever will, but… Hell. I’m fucking someone for stuff.’

‘It ain’t on you, though. They’ll pay for this.’

The younger man looks at him. ‘Yeah?’

Daryl nods. He bites on his lower lip and fidgets with his cigarette. Then he nods again. ‘Promise,’ he mutters before taking a quick drag, almost like he’s ashamed of the word, driving it out with fire and smoke.

Benjamin reaches out. Slim fingers over rough ones. They curl around the cigarette, plucking it from Daryl’s grip. He lifts it to his lips, taking a drag.

Daryl watches, captivated. ‘Seven minutes,’ he tells him because he can’t think of anything else and he’s heard the comment so many times that he even hears it whenever Benjamin is not around to actually say it.

‘Thank God.’ The blond man looks over his shoulder, out over the yard, the walls, the woods. ‘You know…. You can walk away,’ he says. ‘I won’t blame you. Hell, I earned it, but I just feel like I need to say it. You can walk away from all of this. It’s not your problem, it’s not your anything, really. All of this, and whatever comes next because of this, is on me. All of it. You don’t have to stay because God knows you don’t owe me anything.’ He nods, ‘you can walk away.’

Daryl reaches out and takes the cigarette back. ‘I’m done with walkin’ away.’

‘You can’t help. You can’t do anything about it.’

‘Maybe not,’ Daryl lets the cigarette dangle from his lower lip, bites down on it with his teeth, hallows his cheeks when he sucks the tainted air into his lungs. ‘But this will end, remember? A terrible accident, when we’re good and ready, that’s what you said. And what could be more tragic than my bolt splitting his head open? A hunting accident. It happens like that,’ he snaps his fingers.

Benjamin is watching him closely. Green eyes from behind that blond fringe. ‘Promise?’ he asks softly, the word almost lost in the breeze.

Daryl flicks his cigarette butt out of the window. ‘A crossbow takes a lot of skill. Ain’t easy.’

The younger man frowns, ‘what do you mean by that?’

‘An instant kill? Between the eyes?’ Daryl scoffs, ‘’s hard man, especially with a movin’ target. I’ll probably hit it a little off, get him in the eye instead, ya know? It’ll be slow. It’ll hurt.’ He leans back against the window sill and inspects his fingernails for a second. Blue eyes flick up to catch green ones. ‘He’ll die screamin’.’

Benjamin shivers. ‘You hit moving targets all the time.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Between the eyes, no problem.’

‘Hmh.’

A small smile starts to tug at the corners of Benjamin’s mouth. ‘And the first time you won’t get a clean kill will be with him, hmm?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl smirks as he looks out over the wall. ‘Wouldn’t that be a bitch?’

There’s a knock on their door. It opens several beats later and Rick walks in, hands on his belt, looking every inch the sheriff he used to be. The blue eyes are cold when they sweep over the room before they settle on Benjamin and regain their warmth.

‘I think we need to talk.’ Rick cocks his head to the side and tries to catch Benjamin’s eye.

‘Leave him be,’ Daryl says with a glance at his brother.

‘It’s fine, Daryl.’ Benjamin stretches and looks up to give Rick a fragile smile. ‘We can talk.’

‘Thank you,’ Rick sits down on the edge of the bed. He looks at Daryl pointedly.

The hunter glances at the blond. ‘Ya a’right?’

‘We’ll be fine, thanks,’ Benjamin nods. ‘Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay? Remember what you promised; when we’re good and ready.’

‘Yes sir,’ Daryl drawls before walking away.

 

He doesn’t leave the house. In fact, he doesn’t technically leave the first floor. He sits on the top step of the stairs and waits.

Seconds, minutes, almost an hour.

Rick is rubbing the back of his neck when he steps out onto the landing again. He doesn’t seem surprised to see the hunter. Instead he sags down next to him, having to lean on Daryl’s shoulder for a second in order to keep his balance. There are bags under his eyes. His fingers shake when he wipes at his cheeks, his mouth, before he exhales deeply.

‘Ya a’right?’

‘Yeah,’ Rick nods. ‘He’s going to get some sleep. He’s exhausted.’

‘’s been a long-ass day,’ Daryl agrees.

Rick laughs softly but it’s more amazed than happy. ‘I didn’t think he’d forget this easily. Gabriel,’ the former cop explains when Daryl just looks at him. ‘I made him a promise, a while ago. Maybe he thought that, because I was knocked out, I wouldn’t know. That I wouldn’t find out he’s been hurting my family. Or maybe he just forgot about that little deal we’d made. It doesn’t matter what he was thinking.’ He looks at his brother. ‘This is a good place.’

Daryl gnaws on his thumb.

Rick nods again and looks around the landing, down the steps before plucking at his jeans with his fingernails. ‘We’ve stayed at so many places, but I didn’t think we could ever find a home again. A place to hang our hats.’ The cop smiles at the thought. ‘But this place? It works. It’s safe, people feel at ease here. It’s a community.’

The hunter shifts uncomfortably. He feels sick.

‘The new world,’ Rick whispers as he folds his hands together and rests the tips of his fingers against his lips. ‘I thought it was impossible. Walls. People. No. I thought the world was too far gone. But I can show it to Carl now. To Judith. This is how it will be.’

Daryl hums softly but doesn’t meet Rick’s eye.

‘When we find a new place,’ Rick muses, ‘this is what it will be like.’

Daryl’s eyes snap to Rick’s. They stare at each other.

Rick frowns. ‘You thought we would stay.’

Daryl isn’t sure what the look in Rick’s eye is. Sorrow, maybe. Hurt. A hint of anger, lurking around those dark pupils. ‘You said it; s a good place. It’s why he did it. The deal. For you, Judith, Carl. All of them.’

‘I know,’ Rick nods. ‘And I told you; I’m grateful. This place? It’s amazing, but it’s nothing more than a high wall and a patch of dirt. Four walls and a roof. We can find that anywhere. What makes this place special is the people, the community they became. But we got that already.’ Rick gets up and lobes down the stairs. At the bottom, he looks back up again. ‘They hurt my family. They don’t get to live. You with me?’

Daryl tilts his chin a bit higher. ‘Yeah. I’m with ya.’

 

 


	17. Left eye, dead center.

 

* * *

 

 

The conversation flows past him. It’s nothing but white noise. People talking about the latest gossip, the justice system Maggie is trying to set up, the energy grit Eugene is working on. Names and jobs and places, nothing of it registers properly. The wall, the clinic, the woods, none of it matters to him. He sees mouths move, hears people laugh but he can’t quiet figure out why or who. Cutlery on plates, cups picked up and put back down, chairs scraping, people asking others to pass bowls along.

Rick is sitting next to him. He knows that. Michonne is on his left. He knows that too.

Someone mentions the runners. They list names. Most of them don’t mean anything to him. He registers Glenn’s name, of course.

_Benjamin_.

Daryl watches how Xander smirks and leans back in his chair. One arm over his backrest, one leg kicked out to claim more space. The dark eyes glance at Michonne, trying to catch her gaze. He’s been trying all night.

‘I was so sorry to hear that Ben wasn’t feeling well,’ Raeanne says to Rick. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

‘No,’ Rick answers with an easy smile. ‘It’s just a bug. He’ll tough it out.’

‘We can send Ella by to have a look at him,’ Davis insists. ‘That’s what she does.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ Rick assures him.

‘Daryl?’ The leader of Genesis turns to him for confirmation. The dinner was a way to welcome Rick into the community and an informal way to hold his interview, even though it has been long since decided that he got to stay. It’s been five days since the cop had been released from the clinic. He looks better. The regular meals cause his face to fill out once more. He’s shaved, showered and almost looks like the man Daryl had met in the quarry. The eyes, however, are not the same.

‘Rick’s right,’ Daryl nods as he leans back in his chair. ‘We got him.’

Raeanne smiles at him. ‘He probably ran himself ragged. Poor thing. Has he always been in your group?’

‘Didn’t you watch them interviews, woman? What’re we tapin’ that shit for,’ Xander laughs, ‘he was holed up in some school or something.’

Davis rolls his eyes and clips his brother over the back of his head, ‘you’re the one who messed up the tape, ya idiot.’

‘Hey! That weren’t me. Faulty equipment. Hell, that thing probably ran outta memory with that boy talkin’ so damn much.’

‘He was probably just nervous,’ Raeanne argues. ‘Now that he has settled in, he doesn’t talk all that much anymore. He’s real quiet, right Michonne?’

A muscle jumps in Michonne’s jaw. Her dark gaze snaps to the other woman. She nods tersely. ‘Like a mouse.’

Rick snorts but the soft sound is lost when Raeanne turns to her brother in law. ‘Xan, maybe you can bring him something to cheer him up. You guys hang out, right?’

The smirk is back. The man stretches and melts into his chair. One hand rests near his plate, right next to his fork.

Daryl thinks about how easy it would be to get up, grab the fork and pin that hand to the table with it. He doesn’t, of course.

‘Yeah, we hang out,’ Xander nods, ‘I’ll think of something for him, a’right? Bring it by later.’

‘You can give it to one of us,’ Michonne says with a fake smile. ‘We don’t want you to get sick as well.’

‘Fine by me, black beauty,’ the man leers. He perks up a bit, clearly pleased to finally have the woman’s attention.

‘It’s time for us to go,’ Rick says. His tone has lost the easy it had a few second prior. The blue eyes are cold when he glances at the other man and Daryl frowns a little. It’s not like Rick to lose his cool over petty nicknames and teasing. Michonne, too, frowns at the former cop but plays along easily.

‘Yeah,’ she says as she gets up. A fake smile softens her features. ‘Thank you so much for this dinner. We’ve had a great time.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Raeanne beams back. ‘We should do this more often!’

Davis grins at Rick and rolls his eyes, ‘the only thing I don’t miss; fancy ass dinner parties.’

Rick smirks, ‘at least we didn’t have to dress up for this.’

‘Amen,’ Davis laughs.

‘Well, tough, because we like it,’ Raeanne aims a soft kick at her husband’s leg, ‘right, girl?’ she adds with a wink at Michonne.

‘Right.’ The dark-skinned woman smiles awkwardly as the other woman grabs her arm and drags her close while walking towards the door. Raeanne chatters about how she had been part of this dinner club once and how Davis will never let her live that down.

Rick follows them, his hands on his belt as his gaze sweeps over the living room. Maybe it’s a habit from his cop’s job to scan any environment for any sort of threat, or maybe the road had made him like that. Daryl wouldn’t know.

A hand lands on his shoulder, causing him to glare and jump slightly.

Davis laughs at him. ‘Sorry, thought ya were supposed to be the one who sneaks up on people.’

‘Thinkin’,’ Daryl mutters as he allows the other man to walk him to the front door.

‘I was surprised you didn’t bring Carol.’

Daryl shrugs. ‘She’s playin’ nurse. Ya know how she gets.’

‘Hmm. Got yourself a good woman there, Dixon,’ Davis nods. ‘She’s been so great. And that casserole? Damn, son. Gift from the gods.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Daryl nods even though he doesn’t care about the damn casseroles Carol makes for the community.

There’s an awkward round of goodbye’s. Raeanne insists on hugging them all, even though Daryl had tried to side-step it and Michonne just stood there, still as a statue and looking like someone was flaying her instead of hugging. Rick’s better at the whole social thing. He laughs and hugs and shakes Davis’ hand, insisting that they come over to their place for dinner next time.

The door closes and they walk back to their own homes.

‘What’re you thinking,’ Michonne hisses at the former cop when they step onto the road, ‘inviting them to our place for a dinner party? This was horrible. Longest night of my life, and I’m counting that watch-duty in that trailer park! This was worse. Way worse.’

‘Relax,’ Rick mutters as he glances over his shoulder for a moment. ‘There’s not going to be a next time.’

Michonne shivers at the words.

‘Yo, _Daryl_!’

The hunter stops and turns to see how Xander dashes out of the house, jogging to catch up with the three of them.

‘Hey man,’ Xander grins as he reaches him. Rick and Michonne walk on to give them the illusion of privacy while staying within earshot of their brother at all times. ‘I was wonderin’ whether ya needed something. We’re goin’ on a run tomorrow.’

They both know that Daryl only comes to him when he needs cigarettes and they’re not going on a run for that. The other man keeps boxes of the stuff in his living room.

‘Nah man, I’m good,’ Daryl says.

‘Ya sure?’ Xander frowns a little. ‘’s been a while, man. Someone else pickin’ up my chores now, eh?’

Daryl shrugs. ‘Rick’s up ‘n around. He don’t like it. Wants us to be healthy and shit.’

‘Ain’t that a bitch. Reminds me of Davis, he’s always bitchin’ about the smokin’ too. Well, come see me when your hands start to shake, man. A’right?’

Daryl nods, ‘sure.’ He walks back to Michonne and Rick, who are waiting for him at the corner of the street.

Michonne sniffs as she watches how Xander slinks back to his brother’s house. ‘That son of a bitch. Light as a feather.’

‘That’s because he doesn’t know yet,’ Rick tells her, his dark eyes tracking the other man too.

‘Know what?’

Rick smiles and looks at his brother. ‘You pick a spot yet?’

‘Left eye, dead center,’ Daryl mutters as he passes them.

 

They come home to a familiar sight.

All of their family members are sitting around the kitchen table. Their heads are bent close together, voices sometimes calm and soothing while other times spiking in hisses and snarls. Fingers jab at maps and slide down lists. Eyes flash as they argue. Glenn snaps at Maggie, who snaps at Carol, who argues with Abe, who turns on Sasha, who glares until everyone sulks in silence. Eugene asks a question when everyone seems to have settled down again and Tara answers, sparking another round.

Rick and Michonne claim their spots at the table.

Daryl hovers at Rick’s right hand for a second. He glances at the maps. Glenn’s handwriting is all over the damn thing. Clusters of walkers, hide-outs, familiar paths the runners use to get in and out of the town, everything is marked and labelled. Carol is writing another list while Maggie sums items up. Batteries, flashlights, ammunition, food, water.

Every once a while Glenn needs to point at the map and Carol will scribble a location down.

‘The fuck y’all doin’?’ Daryl asks when he leans close to see that Carol is writing _walkers_ next to a list of _water, food, blankets_. The family meeting have been held frequently over the last couple of days but he never attends them because no one is asking him to and he can’t bring himself to care about batteries when he thinks about what Benjamin had to do to get them in the first place.

‘Planning some stuff,’ Rick says distractedly. ‘Give me an update,’ he orders Eugene.

The flood of words that follow makes Daryl’s head spin. It’s always a chore to understand the other man and he really doesn’t care right now, so he wanders over to the fridge to get some water.

Carol appears at his side when he lifts the bottle to his lips. He almost expects her to scold him for not using a glass. Maybe he’s starting to get used to the role she’s playing. But when he glances at her, he catches the coldness that lingers in those light eyes.

‘You’re avoiding me.’

It’s a statement. Nothing more.

‘Yup,’ Daryl says between gulps of cold water.

‘Why?’

The hunter puts the bottle back and lets the door of the fridge slam closed. He turns to look at his best friend. ‘Because ya knew.’

‘Everyone knew.’

‘Not like you did.’

‘No,’ Carol agrees easily. She leans with her hip against the kitchen counter. ‘You’re mad because I didn’t stop it?’

‘Ain’t your problem, right? Ain’t nothing to you. I get that.’

‘He kept us safe. That’s all that matters.’

Daryl nods and bites on his lips. ‘When Rick banished you, back at the prison? Hmm. I told him that weren’t you.’ They stare at each other for a moment. ‘But it was.’

Carol tilts her chin a bit higher. ‘It kept us safe.’

‘No. It pulled us apart like cotton candy. It didn’t have to end like that. Not for them. They were good people.’

‘I never said they weren’t,’ the woman argues. ‘But they were going to kill us.’

‘So you killed them first, huh?’

‘Yes.’

He nods and brushes past her.

‘Hey,’ her hand on his biceps stops him in his stride. ‘I’m sorry this happened to him.’

He knows enough about her to know that she’s not lying. ‘Me too,’ he mumbles because she’s not the only one to blame. It feels strange. He wants to hurt anyone who ever harmed Benjamin, and she’s right there on the list. Below Xander’s name, above Maggie’s, in between his own and Davis’.

That’s why he’s been avoiding her. Because he wants to hurt her, enough to give her a sense of how messed up he’s feeling, enough to let her know that he’s finally come to grasp with the notion that Benjamin is his in a way she will never be, or anyone else of their family.

He wants to hurt the people who hurt Rick, too, of course. And if anyone ever lays a hand on Maggie or Glenn again, he will make them suffer, he is so sure of that, but Benjamin is nothing like them, in his mind and heart.

He desperately wants to hurt himself. To burn marks into his skin which will always remind him of how he’d failed the person who’d put his trust in him so easily. But he also knows that it wouldn’t make a difference. Not to him, and not to Benjamin. The pain would be temporary. It would numb for an hour, maybe, just a moment, more likely. It’s not the pain that now makes him realize that he’s alive. Or that he loves. It’s that feeling inside of him, so deep beneath his skin that burns could never touch its surface.

Benjamin would hate him for it, if he’d ever mark his skin for that man again. He’d hated the previous burns, the ones that had been grounded in uncertainty and fear. He wouldn’t understand.

Daryl is not sure he does, either. He only knows that it helps, sometimes.

He walks away.

Carl is sitting on one of the couches, nose buried in a comic book. He looks up when Daryl falls down next to him. ‘Hey,’ he mutters.

‘Hey kid,’ Daryl yawns as he stretches and stares up at the ceiling.

The teenager shifts and closes the comic. He looks at the hunter. ‘How’s Benjamin?’

‘You tell me.’ The hunter hasn’t spoken to the other man today. They parted ways this morning, Daryl to go on a patrol of the wall and then to get ready for their meeting with Davis. Benjamin hadn’t been there to leer at him when he’d taken a shower to at least look like he’d made an effort at the whole civilization thing.

‘He’s with Judith.’ Carl’s voice is small, almost too tentative to belong to the apocalypse-hardened boy. Brown eyes peek at Daryl from beneath the rim of his sheriff’s hat. ‘He’s locked himself in there.’

Daryl meets the curious gaze. He’s not sure what the boy is trying to tell him now.

‘He doesn’t want to talk to me.’

Daryl nods because Benjamin has been avoiding every one of their family members. They’ve told everyone in Genesis that he’d come down with a bug of some kind so he would have a couple of days of peace and quiet. He’s using that time to hide from his family too. In the dark, he tells Daryl that he doesn’t want anyone looking at him because he knows what they’re thinking. That he’s filthy, tainted, a traitor, weak. That he no longer belongs.

Of course, Daryl tries to tell him that that’s not that anyone is thinking. He tells it by lying down next to him, by staring up at the ceiling together and just being right there, but it doesn’t seem to help.

It’s not enough.

‘He’s just goin’ through some stuff,’ Daryl mutters vaguely. He’s not sure how much Carl understands of what’s going on. Maybe Rick has explained the situation to him, or Michonne, but if they haven’t… He’s not sure how to explain it so some kid.

‘Is he going to be all right?’

‘Yeah,’ Daryl nods even though he’s not sure.

Benjamin is holed up in his room and hardly says a word. He reads his books listlessly, flipping through the pages, but has to close to book and read the title to be able to tell Daryl what he’s reading when being asked. He’s not laughing anymore, either that cruel, broken sound or his normal laugh. Only now does Daryl realize that he himself hasn’t cracked a smile in months either.

‘Did this place make him weak?’

Daryl’s gaze snaps to the boy.

‘These people are weak, right?’ Carl asks. ‘And he’s become more of them than us. I mean, he’s always hanging out with them and everything…’

‘He ain’t weak.’

‘I know!’ Carl looks a bit frightened by Daryl’s warning tone, but he decides to soldier on. Maybe it’s that stubborn streak he seems to have inherited from Rick. He knows that something is wrong and seems dead-set on finding out what it is, exactly. ‘I know he wasn’t weak when he was with us. But, he’s… different, now.’

Daryl grunts and shrugs, slouching down further in his seat to show how much this conversation is annoying him.

Carl is used to his antics however. ‘He’s still _Ben_ , you know? But…’ the boy searches for the right words to describe how someone broke down before your very eyes without you ever seeing. ‘We thought Jacqui was still Jacqui, right?’

The comparison causes Daryl’s inside to clench and then freeze over. ‘He ain’t like Jacqui.’

‘Like Andrea then? She gave up too, a while, right? Like she didn’t want to be here?’

‘ _He ain’t like them_!’

Carl’s eyes widen. Everyone at the table falls silent.

From the corner of his eye, Daryl can see how Rick slowly turns to look at his son and brother. He doesn’t get up to intervene or find out what’s going on, but he’s watching.

‘Look,’ Daryl turns to the boy and sighs. ‘I… Something bad happened to him, okay? And he ain’t all right, but he will be. Just leave him alone a while.’

‘What happened to him? Is it because they beat him up?’

‘No, it’s…. it’s something else.’

‘ _What_?’ Carl urges. Frustration is screwing up his features, making him far older than he is but also younger in the way he glances at his dad and Daryl, expecting an explanation.

‘Carl,’ Rick calls out, voice gentle. ‘Come here. I need your help with something.’

‘Not before you explain to me what’s going on!’ the teenager argues but he still gets up to go over to his father. ‘He’s my friend too!’

‘I know that, son. Come on now.’

Carl sulks as he leans against Rick’s chair. He glances down at the maps and charts and lists, eyes roaming over them.

Rick pulls a map of the town closer and follows the wall with a pencil, circling Genesis. He looks up at his son. ‘Abraham told me you can climb the wall.’

Carl glares at Abraham like he betrayed him. ‘I _didn’t_ climb the wall. I haven’t been outside, I promise. Daryl and Michonne told me not to.’

‘No,’ Rick says, ‘I know, you’re not in trouble. But I need to know; _can_ you climb the wall without anyone noticing? If something happens, can you get out without going through the gates?’

‘Sure.’ Carl frowns a little but leans closer and points at a spot near the greenhouses. ‘Right there. Depends on who’s on guard duty in the tower, though. Rae’s always watching every angle, but other aren’t. They just watch the gates.’

‘Don’t worry about that, they won’t be looking at the greenhouses,’ Rick dismisses. ‘So you can climb up the wall, no problem? Can you take a bag with you?’

‘Sure.’

Rick looks up at him. ‘What about Judith? Can you take her?’

Carl looks at his father. He changes his posture, stands up straight and lets one hand rest on his belt, right where his gun used to be. ‘Yeah,’ he nods confidently. ‘You can count on me, dad. I got her.’

 

Life continues as it always has. That’s the hardest part. For days, nothing changes.

After two more days, Benjamin can’t hide behind his non-existent illness anymore and goes back to his runner’s job. The first morning, he tries to evade his family by getting up ridiculously early. He doesn’t shower out of fear of waking anyone but when he comes down to grab some breakfast, everyone is already sitting at the kitchen table.

They greet him. Abraham makes him breakfast. Maggie pretends that nothing unusual is going on by trying to keep a conversation with Eugene going.

Benjamin slides into the empty spot next to Daryl, eyes down and his complexion unusually pale.

Nobody asks him a direct question, but the conversations flow past him naturally. Daryl doesn’t talk either but then again, he hardly ever does, so that’s nothing note-worthy.

In the end, Benjamin huffs out a soft breath of laughter at one of Michonne’s digs aimed at Rick. He still doesn’t look up but the tension slowly drains from his posture.

When everyone breaks up to go about their day, Rick looks at the blond man. ‘Ben,’ he calls out. ‘I want to talk to you.’

Benjamin nods like he’d been expecting that. They go outside.

Daryl watches them through the glass. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but sees how they take a seat on that small step leading into the garden. Their shoulders brushing together. Benjamin is all stiff muscles and protective arms wrapped around his waist as he sits hunched over, but Rick is lounging back, his body language relaxed and open. They talk for a long while.

After, Rick stands and Benjamin rises too. Rick says something, ducking his head slightly to catch the gaze of the other man.

Benjamin nods.

And then Rick reaches out, pulls the other man in a careful hug.

Daryl can’t see Benjamin’s face but he watches how his friend hides his head in his brother’s neck, breathing deeply. Rick buries a hand in the bond hair and holds on tightly.

 

Raised voices on the porch are the only warning he gets before the door burst open. Maggie and Glenn drag Benjamin over the threshold. The blond is leaning on their shoulders, his head so low that his chin touches his chest. The blond hair is wet.

‘Get him into the kitchen,’ Carol orders as she closes the door behind them. ‘The sink, get him under the tap!’

Daryl rises from the couch as Glenn wrestles the younger man into the kitchen, dragging and shoving him until they reach the counter. Maggie turns the tap on and takes over. She guides Benjamin’s head down and lets the water run over his hair.

‘Get us some shampoo,’ she tells her husband. ‘We need to wash it out. Quick!’

Glenn dashes up the stairs to get it. In his rush, he nearly knocks Rick off the staircase.

The former cop grabs hold of the wall before continuing downstairs, casting a look at the Korean over his shoulder before turning to Carol. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’

‘They dyed his hair,’ Carol says flatly. Her gaze rests on Benjamin’s frame. The young man is struggling, trying to get away from the water while trying to reach up to touch his head. He grunts and moans, writhing in pain.

‘I know, sweetie,’ Maggie mutters as she strokes his back comfortingly, ‘stay still, we need to wash it out.’

Glenn returns with the bottle and quickly dumps a load of shampoo on the blond’s head. His wife starts to wash the hair. The smell of chemicals slowly disappears from the kitchen, but Benjamin doesn’t seem to notice any difference. He’s grinding his teeth, his hands clutching the counter so hard that they’re turning white.

‘Apparently,’ Carol continues, ‘Xander likes him blond. He ran out of dye a while ago. It was starting to turn gray again.’ She looks at Rick. ‘He used bleach.’

‘Okay, I got it out, your hair is clean but you need to open your eyes, okay?’ Maggie coaxes. ‘Sweetie? I know it hurts, but come on, open them up.’

‘They dunked his head into a bucket with the stuff. It got into his eyes,’ Carol murmurs as they watch how Maggie tries to gently pry the eyelids apart to let the water run into them.

‘Fuck, no, fuck it hurts, let go,’ Benjamin protests. ‘Please, no, God.’

Maggie looks pained. ‘I’m so sorry, Ben, but we really need to rinse your eyes. It’ll make it better. Just try, okay?’ She tries to help again but flinches a little when the man moans in pain. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, honey, but… We have to…   _Please_ try to open your eyes.’

Daryl watches. He’s moving before he’s even made the conscious decision to do so. He pushes past Rick and Carol and steps up beside Maggie. The brunette seems surprised to see him but a relieved smile creeps onto her face when he reaches for his friend. She steps aside to give him some room. ‘It’s just me, man,’ Daryl tells him when Benjamin startles as the rough fingers replace Maggie’s soft ones. ‘This is going to hurt like a mother fucker.’

He pries the eyelids apart and lets the water run into the eyes.

Benjamin screams. Daryl grabs him by the neck and pushes his head down low, grunting with the effort as the blond struggles. He nearly chokes on the water, spitting it out and coughing while trying to escape Daryl’s firm grip.

‘I got him,’ Rick steps up beside his brother, grabs hold of both of Benjamin’s wrists and twists them behind his back in a practiced maneuver. The blond’s chests smacks onto the counter and Rick pins him in place easily by twisting one arm a bit too far.

‘Auch, ohw, oh _fuck_ ,’ Benjamin grunts, ‘Rick, please, _please_ let go. Get off me! Get the fuck off me!’

Daryl grabs his chin and tilts his head to the side so the water flows over his eyebrow and not straight into his eye. He sees flashes of the green irises, but the white of his eyes has turned completely red. Even with the water changing the color slightly, he can see how the bleach has already affected the hair, too.  It’s no longer that strange mixture of gray and blond. Some parts start to turn yellow and white.

‘Jesus motherfucking Christ,’ Benjamin curses. He spits water down the drain and nearly gags at the taste of bleach on his tongue. ‘Oh my God this hurts. Daryl, please, I’m begging you. Please stop. _Stop_!’

‘Nah,’ Daryl answers, ‘gotta get it out, man.’ He adjusts the temperature of the water, makes sure that it isn’t too cold before he slowly cards his fingers through the mop of hair in a soothing rhythm. ‘You’re good. You’re gonna be fine. Relax.’

It takes a couple of minutes, but eventually Benjamin stops his trashing. He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. ‘Okay,’ he mutters, ‘Rick, you can let go now.’

The former cop glances at Daryl, who nods, before letting go and taking a step back.

Benjamin’s hand reaches for Daryl’s leg, grabbing hold of the fabric of his jeans and holding on tightly.

‘I got ya,’ Daryl assures him. ‘I got ya.’

The door bursts open again. Ella and Carl come running in. They’re both panting from the exercise, but the doctor pushes past Carol and Rick to get to the blond man.

‘Ben? Ben! It’s Ella, Carl told me what happened. I need to see your eyes, okay?’ She gentle guides his head up, ‘open them real quick for me now. Look up at me.’

Benjamin glances at her.

‘Rinse, rinse!’ She guides his head back down, ‘Jesus. You need to stay like this for a good twenty minutes still. Wait, can you get on the counter and then lean back into the sink? It might make it easier to do.’

The blond nods and takes a small step back. Daryl hovers nearby but his friend manages to jump onto the counter even when nearly blind. He stretches out on it, his boots scraping over the top as he pulls his legs up. Ella guides his head back down and lets the water run over his forehead so it streams into his eyes.

Daryl glances at Carl who is looking on with wide eyes. ‘Thanks for gettin’ her, kid. Good thinkin’.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Carl dismisses. ‘Sure. Is he going to be okay?

‘There could be permanent damage,’ Ella says. ‘But I won’t know for sure until we’re done.’

Permanent damage.

_Permanent_ damage.

Daryl’s hand curls out the heft of his knife. Fingers on that wood, still cold now that it hasn’t been touched in a while, but warming quickly. The move is so familiar that it eases some tension from his shoulders.

‘Daryl,’ Rick says curtly. ‘With me.’ He turns on the spot and walks up the staircase. Carl follows too.

The hunter looks at Benjamin, who’s still gritting his teeth as the bleach assaults his eyes. The skin around them has started to turn red and irritated, but Ella tries to soothe it by gently washing the area. Carol is standing guard nearby with her arms folded in such a way that her fingertips brush against the heft of her knife. Her gaze is fixed on Ella.

Daryl follows his brother up the stairs.

When they reach the top of the stairs, Rick gives Carl’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before pushing him towards the teenager’s bedroom. ‘Get my stuff.’

His son nods and disappears down the hall.

Daryl follows Rick into his bedroom. He leans against the wall next to the door, hands tucked under the pits of his arms. He watches how Rick crosses to his dresser and pulls the top drawer open.

He pulls his belt out. The broad one, made of woven brown leather. The one with the holster.

Carl comes back. He passes his father the Colt Python.

Daryl now remembers giving the teenager his dad’s gun, way back before they ever even crossed the gates of Genesis. He must have stuffed it into his pack before they arrived. Only now he remembers not seeing Rick’s gun on the hood of the car, among the others which would had been collected by Raeanne’s men.

Carl grins shyly at him and tips the sheriff’s hat.

‘We’ve been getting ready,’ Rick tells Daryl as he accepts the gun. ‘We’ve got plans, we’ve got all these maps and charts. I’m sorry it took too long and he got hurt. Again. Still, I mean.’ He checks the chamber of his gun, spins the cylinder and slams it back in place, aiming at a painting to look down the sight for a second.

Daryl realizes that that might be the most reassuring sight he’s ever seen. Better than his mom coming home, better than Merle waiting for him with the bike growling, better than his own bow gleaming in the dark, even.

‘I’m just sorry he got hurt while we were getting ready, brother,’ Rick murmurs as he puts his gun in the holster. His hands rest on the belt. The blue eyes are hard and unforgiving. ‘But we’re ready now.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to go BOOM. Get ready.


	18. It's done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; graphic violence and gore.

 

* * *

 

 

The church is actually quite beautiful.

It always reminds Daryl of that small church they came across while searching for Sophia. The same white walls, wooden floors, roughly the same amount of pews. There’s an altar at the very back, an aisle leading down to it and a statue of Jesus Christ on the cross. Only there are no corpses to occupy the pews in this place.

Not yet, anyway.

Rick is standing near the beginning of the aisle. His hands are resting on his belt as he looks around. His gaze flickers over the statue on the wall, then to the door right next to the altar, over the empty pews, the couple of candles that are burning on their left. A tribute to the dead.

It’s the first time the cop has visited the church.

There’s a jerry-can of gasoline standing next to his feet.

Daryl is right behind him, of course. His sharp gaze sweeps over the furniture as he holds on to the strap of his crossbow. The fabric is worn, stained by sweat and blood. The steadying weight of the weapon is comforting. There are new bolts in his quiver. He’d found a couple more in various hunting cabins on their way to this place. There’s a spare quiver in his backpack, also packed.

It had felt strange to pack his bag earlier this morning. Of course, he doesn’t have a lot of personal items and he doesn’t give a damn about what kind of clothes he wears, so it hadn’t been a difficult task. But it had felt weird to empty his drawers, to stuff his knifes into the backpack, to close the door to his bedroom and know that he’d never come back to it again.

The others had emptied the cupboards, had stuffed most of their belongings into their cars under the pretense of helping Glenn to get ready for the next run. Carl probably had the most difficulty packing his stuff up. His collection of comics has grown considerably over the last couple of months and even though he’d cast them aside easily, Daryl still caught him looking a bit pained while trying to decide which of them he would be able to take with him.

But he’d also caught the rest of his family, Michonne, Rick and Maggie setting the example, grabbing issues of the comics while passing the stack and putting them in their own packs. There’s an issue of Batman and Robin in Daryl’s backpack.

Rick stoops down to grab the jerry-can and starts to walk down the aisle. He gazes up at the supporting beams of the roof in admiration. The heels of his boots cause his footfalls to echo.

The door next to the altar opens and Gabriel walks in. He’s wearing his formal clothing, dressed in all black except for the white collar. Daryl reckons that he can be easily mistaken for a holy man.

The Father seems surprised to find the two brothers in his church. The dark eyes widen and his step falters before he regains his composure and flashes them a horribly fake smile.

‘Good morning,’ he greets with a vague wave of his hands. ‘Rick, I was glad to hear that you were feeling better.’

They all know that the Father hadn’t bothered to convey that sentiment in person. A lot of people had come by to bring gifts or words of welcome to the last member of their family. There had been cakes and cookies, several dusty bottles of wine and still more comic books for Carl.

‘Thank you, Father. What a beautiful church.’

‘We have been blessed with this place,’ Gabriel nods as he steps up to the altar. ‘I can’t say I’m not surprised to see you here.’

‘Daryl has been showing me the town,’ Rick says with a nod at his brother. ‘We were on our way to gas up to the tanks, but we ran into,’ he searches for the right name, ‘Pete?’

‘Peter,’ Daryl corrects.

‘Right,’ the cop looks over his shoulder, ‘is he the one with the boat?’

‘Nah, man. That’s Robin.’

Rick laughs as if he’s embarrassed and rubs at the back of his neck as he turns back to Gabriel, who’s watching closely. ‘Right, right. There are just so many new names and faces, my brain is struggling to keep up with it all.’

‘You should come to one of the services,’ Gabriel tells him. ‘It’s a good way to meet everyone. This congregation is quite extraordinary.’

Daryl snorts softly. He walks to one of the last pews and jumps up on the seating, his heavy boots thumping on the wood. He sits down on the backrest, elbows on his knees and eyes trained on the Father.

Gabriel glances at him and frowns disapprovingly but doesn’t say anything.

He hopes that the other man recognizes the irony of his own words. His former congregation is probably eating intestines somewhere. Extraordinary.

‘You’re always welcome here,’ Gabriel says as he watches how Rick reaches the altar and puts down the jerry-can filled with gasoline. ‘How may I help you on this fine morning?’

‘I’m struggling, Father,’ Rick answers as he leans back against one of the pews. Feet crossed at the ankles, hands on both sides of his hips, curling around the wood. Blue eyes sharp as they pin the Father down.

‘With your faith?’

‘With everything,’ Rick says. ‘It’s just… When I woke up, I thought it was going to be a new start. A clean slate. Carl told me about this place, what it could mean for us, for our family, and I thought it could be the new world we’ve been searching for, but…’ Rick looks down at his hands. He twists his wedding ring around. ‘The things we’ve done to get here? They haven’t gone away. They’ll never go away. It’s like… Like how you can still see the blood on your hands even after you’ve washed them. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I do.’

‘’Cause you’ve done things too, right?’ Rick looks up at Gabriel. ‘Terrible things.’

‘Yes.’ The Father looks uneasy but maintains the eye contact.

‘How do you…’ Rick rubs at his chin and shakes his head. ‘I’ve done things. Like, I’ve killed people. I’m not even sure how many. Twenty, I think, right?’ He casts a look over his shoulder.

Daryl shrugs, ‘sounds about right.’ He rummages through his pockets to find his cigarettes. ‘Bit more, maybe.’

‘Over twenty, then,’ Rick concedes. ‘I’ve killed over twenty people. And I remember the rules. We used to go to church all the time, me and my family. Did you,’ Rick turns around again, ‘did you go to church, brother?’

‘All the damn time,’ Daryl nods.

‘Good southern boys, we are,’ Rick smiles at Gabriel. ‘The sixth commandment. You shall not murder. And it’s not just the sixth I’ve violated. You shall not steal, the eight, right? We did steal. We robbed the whole South blind to save our own lives.’

‘Hell, that don’t matter none,’ the hunter chimes in while he lets a cigarette dangle from his lower lip. He shifts his bow to rest on his knees instead of his back to get more comfortable. And to have it within easier reach. ‘Weren’t no-one around to call it theirs anyway, so it weren’t _stealing_.’

‘It wasn’t _ours_.’

Daryl shrugs to show he doesn’t care. He plucks his lighter from his pocket and plays with the metal device without lighting his cigarette.

Gabriel is watching the exchange between the two brothers. He looks confused and hesitant. His gaze keeps flicking towards the door, his nearest escape.

Rick takes a deep breath and turns back to the father, ‘it doesn’t matter anyway. He will know, right?’ He rises from his seat. ‘I’m pretty sure we’ve violated every single one. Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. We haven’t had a day of rest since this shit-storm started. Honor your father and mother. The fifth,’ he snorts a little and looks over his shoulder. ‘have you honored your father lately, brother?’

‘He used to beat us silly. Ain’t nothing worth honoring, man.’

‘Your momma then?’

Daryl flicks his lighter open and watches how the flame dances. ‘Not yet.’

Rick nods. ‘Fair enough.’ He saunters over the altar, takes a moment to appreciate a work of art on the wall and looks at the Father. ‘What about you? What have you done?’

‘That’s between me and the Lord.’

‘Is it?’ Something hardens in Rick’s face. His voice has gone cold and uncaring.

‘Confessions are a private matter,’ Gabriel tells him. ‘But it’s never too late to get a second chance, a clean slate, Rick. The Lord is merciful.’

‘Maybe that’s the difference.’

‘The difference?’

‘Between God and man,’ Rick answers. ‘I am not merciful.’

Gabriel’s eyes widen. He betrays himself by first looking towards the nearest exit and only then dashing towards it. That’s the only second Daryl needs.

The bolt hits Gabriel in the shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

The Father screams.

‘Did you really think I wouldn’t know?’ Rick asks him softly. He walks over to the man and prevents him from pulling the bolt out and freeing himself. ‘I made you a promise, a long time ago. If whatever you’re hiding hurts one of mine, I will kill you. Did you think I’d forgotten?’

‘I haven’t hurt them!’

‘You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.’

‘I haven’t! I _haven’t_!’

Rick just looks at him for a second.

Daryl rises and puts one foot on the next pew to steady himself. Then he loads his bow again, clicking the bolt into place easily before swinging it up to his shoulder. He looks down the sight, relaxes his heartbeat and focusses on the white-noise of his own breathing.

‘Benjamin,’ Rick say softly but the word mingles with the screams of the Father and echoes through the small church.

‘I haven’t done anything! Please, please Rick.’

‘You told Xander about him. You made him vulnerable.’

‘No, no…’

‘He got hurt.’

‘No!’ Gabriel protests, ‘no, I haven’t…’

Rick leans a little to his right. ‘Daryl.’

He releases the bolt. It flies past Rick’s cheek and buries itself in the palm of Gabriel’s hand, pining it to the wall effectively.

Blood seeps down the wall as Rick steps back and walks towards the aisle. He grabs the jerry-can of gasoline. ‘You told Xander that we have done horrible things and that he should make us leave. Like with your former congregation, you were trying to keep us out.’ He unscrews the top and tilts the jerry-can. Gasoline pours onto the alter. He sprays some onto the walls, and then lets it create a trail on the floor as he makes his way to the back of the church.

Daryl lights his cigarette.

‘You know,’ Rick muses as he empties the can and kicks it aside. ‘The weird things is; you’re right. We’ve done horrible things. But you’re wrong about this; I’m not here to confess. I’m not here for forgiveness.’

Gabriel cries and begs but the sounds are nothing but whimpers of pain.

‘I’m here to keep a promise,’ Rick tells him. ‘Benjamin is mine. And you’ve hurt him.’ He nods and walks towards the door. ‘I’ve told you how this would end.’

He steps out of the church.

There’s a long moment of near-silence. Gabriel is crying. The wall behind him is stained with blood.

Daryl jumps down the pew.

The sudden noise causes Gabriel to look up at him. ‘Daryl,’ he whispers. ‘Please… _Please_.’

Daryl looks at his cigarette. The tip glows.

‘Help me.’

Now he meets the Father’s eye. ‘Nah’ he says. ‘False light, remember?’ And flicks the cigarette into the gasoline.

There’s a noise, a rush of heat, and then there are flames rushing down the aisle. They curl around the wood, dive into the soaked carpet, bite into the Father’s feet. They twist into each other, building, breeding into something hungry and destructive. It claws up feet and legs, licks at pews and spreads so fast that Daryl needs to take a couple of steps back, arm shielding his face against the heat wave.

He watches the flames.

Now, he knows why his mother had chosen them as her weapon of choice. Over pills, over knifes, over the guns in their house. She had chosen fire and now he understands.

He listens to Gabriel’s dying screams.

Flames are slow. They make it hurt. For the ones burning, for the ones watching.

He remembers skidding to a halt before his childhood home, out of breath and sweaty, and watching how the building had come down with fire burying his mother’s bones. Some nights he can still hear her screaming. He knows he won’t ever forget Gabriel’s dying screams either, but for whole other reasons.

He is not sorry this time.

 

Rick is waiting for him on the garden path. Smoke starts to billow out of the building behind them. The screams have been swallowed by the white noise of the inferno. The cop scans the street.

It’s still early in the morning. A lot of people are probably still asleep, or having breakfast at their dinner tables.

‘Ready?’

Daryl hums his affirmation as he throws his bow onto his back.

‘Let’s go then,’ Rick says before he breaks out into a run. He tears down the street, heading towards the watchtower. ‘Fire,’ he screams, ‘ _fire_! Help! Help us!’ He waves his arms wildly and points at the church.

The ones on watch freeze for a moment before they spring into action.

An alarm is sounded, just a couple of short bursts, but the metallic noise is deafening.

Doors are thrown open, people pour out into the street. They grab hold of their neighbors, asking them what’s going on before stumbling towards the main square. There’s fear in their eyes. Daryl can see it. It disgusts him.

Davis’ voice cuts through the panic. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The church is on fire!’ People answer franticly, screaming through each other to be heard. ‘There’s a fire! We need to put it out!’

‘Form a line,’ Davis barks, ‘get all the buckets and form a line from the well behind the greenhouses to the church! Hurry!’

‘ _Fire_!’ Carol comes skidding around the corner with a wild look on her face, ‘there’s a fire!’

‘The church, yeah, we know, we’re on it,’ Davis snaps as he shoves a runner towards the greenhouses, ‘get that line going!’

‘No! It’s the school!’ Carol objects, ‘the school building is on fire!’

‘What?’ Rick asks as he whirls around to spot another black cloud rising from Genesis. ‘The fuck is going on,’ he demands as he looks at Davis, ‘are we under attack?’

Davis’ eyes are wide, ‘I-I don’t know – I don’t know!’

Daryl grunts, ‘get that line going down to the church and school then! Come on!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Davis stumbles away towards the green houses to help his people but then he turns around for a second, looking at Rick. ‘Will you-‘

‘We’ll hold the defenses,’ Rick assures him. ‘Anyone rolls up, we’ll keep them out. I promise, just get that fire out before the whole place burns down!’

Davis gives him a curt nod and disappears into the crowd. They can hear his voice fading as he shouts out orders to try and get the panic among his people under control.

The moment the leader has rounded the corner, Rick turns to Carol and grabs her shoulder, ‘Carl?’

‘He’s gone. He left before it all went down. Sasha covered them for as long as she could.’

‘Good,’ Rick nods, ‘good. Okay, get the others, load up on the guns. Abe’s on the wall, he’ll open the gates. Get everything and get out, don’t wait for us.’

Carol backs away, edging towards the small building next to the clinic, where the guns are kept safe. There’s a small parking lot behind it. Their cars are waiting for them there. ‘Okay,’ she says but she looks hesitant.

‘We’ll be right behind you,’ Rick assures her. ‘Get the others out, don’t hang around, get to the place we’ve set up, okay?’

‘But…’

‘Carl is out there,’ Rick hisses at her, hauling her close by her jacket for a second, ‘my son is out there. Get to the meeting spot,’ he shoves her away from him. ‘ _Go_!’

They watch how Carol’s face hardens in determination. She spins on her heels and runs away, feet pounding on concrete. From another street, Maggie comes running too, having escaped the lineup at the greenhouses. In the distance, Rick spots a shadow that can only be Sasha slipping away between two houses, heading for the gates.

‘Michonne is with him,’ Daryl mutters. ‘She got his back.’

‘Ain’t no safer place than at her side for that kid,’ Rick agrees easily as he watches how Eugene and Rosita cross the street. ‘But I had to get her to move.’

‘ _Rick_!’ This time it’s Glenn who runs up to them, out of breath and with his face flushed. The dark eyes scan the last people from Genesis who make their way to the greenhouses. ‘I can’t find Ben! He wasn’t at home and he’s not in the line-up – I can’t find him!’

‘What?’ The former cop whirls around to face Daryl. ‘Where is he?’

‘How the fuck should I-‘ the hunter starts and then stops. He looks at Glenn, ‘you seen Xander?’

‘No, but I-‘

‘We’ll find him,’ Rick tells their brother, giving him a gentle nudge towards the gates. ‘Go! Get the others out, I saw Maggie running for the clinic. Help her load the last stuff in and then get out of here.’

‘I can help,’ Glenn insists.

‘Help us by getting’ them out,’ Daryl barks at him, stepping forward. ‘Leave my bike and a car behind. We’ll get Benji, now _go_!’

Glenn, too, hesitates.

‘ _Go_ ,’ Rick snaps. The Korean nods and takes a couple of steps backwards before turning on his heels and running away. Rick checks his gun, ‘you know where he’s at?’

‘Only one place he can be,’ Daryl mutters as he looks down the street towards the white house right next to Davis’. ‘Little shit probably knows we’re comin’ for him. He’s smart.’

‘Not smart enough,’ Rick counters grimly, ‘or he wouldn’t have laid a hand on one of ours.’

‘He’ll be waiting for us.’

‘Good,’ Rick nods. He looks at his brother.

‘Yeah,’ Daryl agrees.

‘Let’s not keep him waiting any longer,’ the former cop says. ‘Lead the way.’

And Daryl does. They jog down the street. They can hear the screams of the people trying to put out the fires. It’s hopeless. The buildings will burn down, there’s nothing they can do to stop it, Daryl knows. There will be only ashes left by the time the sun will set on this town. He can’t be sorry for it, not when it gives his family enough time to slip away, not when it puts an end to what this community really is. 

They slip between two houses to get to the backyard. It’s quieter there.

It doesn’t take them long to get to the backdoor of Xander’s home. When Daryl steps up to the door however, there’s a different kind of scream. One of pain, rather than panic. And it comes from inside the house.

Daryl knows whose voice that is.

It chills his blood.

Rick brushes past him to open the door. It’s unlocked. One of the many stupidities small towns and high walls entice. The cop looks back at him, one finger over his lips before he points down the hall and then up at the second floor.

Daryl nods.

They quietly make their way to the staircase. The hunter side-steps into the living room for a second to make sure that it’s empty and Rick checks the kitchen, but there’s no-one around.

‘It’s not us!’ Benjamin’s screaming echoes through the house. There’s hysteria clinging to the syllables. 'I swear it’s not us. Get off of me! Fuck, _fuck_!’

‘Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?’ Xander shouts back. ‘Think I don’t know you ran to your stupid friends and told them about what a sick fuck you are?’

Benjamin chokes out a wet laugh, ‘ _I’m_ the sick fuck?’ He screams again. ‘Stop! _Stop_! Fuck, please, _please_. It’s not us, I swear to God it ain’t us! There’s a fire, they need our help!’

‘You’re pathetic.’

A hand on his shoulder shakes Daryl out of his trance. He takes a deep breath, lets his anger sink into his very bones until his hands are steady again. Then he raises his bow and nods at his brother.

Rick climbs the stairs first.

They know the lay-out by heart. Each house in Genesis is exactly the same.

‘Stop screaming,’ Xander orders. ‘Jesus. Take it like a man, you little bitch,’ there’s laughter in his voice now. ‘Look at ya. Not so pretty anymore now, huh?’

‘Fuck you!’ Benjamin spits back. ‘Get off of me.’

‘Thought ya liked having a man on ya. What? Is it just Rick you’re lusting after then? Oh save him, Xander, save my fearless leader,’ he jeers in a high voice. ‘Here, have my ass as long as you save his life. Does he even know what a dirty whore you really are? Think he’ll ever want to touch you again after he knows what I did to you?’

Rick looks back at Daryl, points down the hall and then to the left.

Daryl nods his understanding. He points to his own chest and then the door on the right.

They move silently, slipping around the corner.

The hunter pauses at the bedroom door. He waits until Rick slips into the bathroom, then waits two more heartbeats so the cop can get to the connecting door.

‘Stop fucking bleeding on my sheets, man,’ Xander snaps.

‘ _Get off of me_!’

Daryl and Rick enter the master bedroom at the same time.

There’s a closet on Daryl’s right, a chair with a pile of clothing on it, a mirror which has cracked. On his left, there’s a large double bed. Benjamin is lying in the middle of it, his wrists tied to the headboard with a belt. He’s still wearing his boots and jeans, but his chests is bare.

Xander is straddling him. There’s a wicked looking knife in his hands.

But all Daryl can see is the blood.

It’s _everywhere_.

The pillow underneath Benjamin’s head is soaked with it. It’s dripping down his cheek, his neck. It runs down his pale chest, snakes over his shoulder and has even changed his hair color to dark red.

The younger man is struggling against his bonds. With his teeth gritted in pain and frustration he tries to tug at the belt, then tries to buck the other man off of him. When that fails, he kicks his feet out of frustration.

There are tears mixing with the blood on his face.

Left eye, dead center. Daryl remembers picking the spot. During dinner he had noticed that Xander’s left eye is a fraction smaller than his right. A harder target and a clearer message; this wasn’t an accident.

But now he doesn’t want it to look like an accident. He doesn’t want it to be so clean and efficient.

Like Rick, he’d made a promise.

And like Rick, he’s going to keep it.

The door to the bathroom had been closed but it swings open when Rick steps into the bedroom, Python raised. That attracts Xander’s attention first. His head whips around to face the deadly shadow in the door opening, but that causes him to miss Daryl’s entrance all together.

His back is to the hunter.

A heartbeat, just a stutter really during which Xander reaches for his gun and Rick levels his own, but Daryl beats them both to it. He squeezes the trigger and a bolt buries itself in Xander’s left shoulder blade.

Rick dashes forward as Xander screams, dragging him down from the bed and quickly stripping him of his weapons. He leaves the younger man on the floor as he slides onto the bed, knife flashing. ‘We got you,’ he mutters when Benjamin flinches. ‘It’s over. We got you.’

‘Rick,’ the blond breathes. ‘My hands, get my hands, I need to – the blood, fuck, get it off me. _Get it off of me_!’

‘Ssh,’ Rick shushes as he cuts at the belt, ‘I got you, just stay still.’

‘Please, please,’ Benjamin begs, ‘Rick, please…’

‘I know, son, stay still.’ Rick finally manages to get the belt to come loose. He casts it aside. It lands on the floor near Daryl’s feet.

Daryl looks at Benjamin. There’s a cut running from his left cheek, nearly nicking the eye, down his neck to his right collar bone.

It’s deep. It will scar.

Benjamin scoots so he can lean back against the headboard while Rick grabs a discarded shirt off the bed and presses it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

Then he looks down at Xander, who is writhing on the floor in pain. He’s trying to grab hold of the bolt with shaking hands but can’t reach.

Daryl puts the bow on the bed and grabs his knife. He leans down, puts the blade against the bolt and breaks it off, a couple of inches above where it pierces the skin. Then he stomps down on it with his boot, driving it deep into the body.

Xander screams.

The hunter grabs him by the shoulder and whirls him onto his back. One foot on his sternum to keep him in place. He leans to the side and takes the belt. He holds on to the buckle and wraps the leather once around his fist.

It almost feels like muscle memory, even though it weren’t his muscles that had done the work at the time.

He lets the belt crack on the floor once. That ominous warning he used to get when he was younger.

He looks down at Xander, who is crying now. The screams barely register. His sense are overwhelmed by the feeling of leather and metal in his hands, his muscles thrumming with anticipation.

Maybe this is why his father had done it, he thinks. Because now he can only think about how he is in control. Nothing else matters. It drowns everything else out. There’s just him and the rage clawing at his skin.

He draws his hand back, rolls his shoulder, puts every bit of force he has behind the move.

And lets the belt strike down on Xander.

The man howls in pain.

Daryl watches how the skin first whitens, then quickly turns an angry red. A thin line, running over his entire face. An exact copy of Benjamin’s wound.

He takes a deep breath.

It not enough. Just like it had been for his daddy; it’s not enough.

‘I’m sorry,’ Xander sobs. His feet scrape over the floor uselessly. He paws at Daryl’s boot, trying to shove it off his chest, but his strength has abandoned him. He’s very nearly paralyzed by fear and pain.

‘No,’ Daryl tells him. ‘But you will be.’ He kneels down on the chest and grabs his knife again. One hand pushes Xander’s face to the side so the skin pulls taunts over his collar bone. He drives the knife in slowly, at an angle his brother had taught him a life-time ago. It slides between the layers of skin and tissue.

He’s skinned many animals before. It’s second nature by now.

The knife is sharp. He’d made sure of it.

Xander screams and struggles, which is annoying but unavoidable, Daryl reckons.

‘Take it like a man,’ he tells the younger brother as he slices down the shoulder and then his chest. Four cuts, a neat square. Right over his heart. ‘Stop your bitchin’, boy. Ain’t got no use for your damn tears. Thought ya could get away with it?’ He scoffs. ‘Thought it was Rick ya had to answer to? Nah. Rick’s a good man, ya see. Loves his gun too much. He’d have made it quick.’

‘Please,’ Xander begs, eyes rolling in its sockets due to the pain. ‘Please, fuck…’

‘Stay with it, now,’ Daryl mutters as he taps Xander’s cheek to get him to focus, just before he drives the knife down and rips the square of skin right off.

Xander screams again. Then he passes out.

‘Shame,’ the hunter says coldly before he digs the knife into the chest.

It’s messy. Blood stains his skin as he works. Efficient, practiced slices through tough tissue. He cracks a couple of bones, having to lean down on the chest hard to do it, but he manages. Six more cuts, still more blood and then he rips the heart out.

Life leaves the body immediately.

Daryl falls back against the bed. He’s panting, he realizes, so consumed by rage that he hadn’t even noticed. He wipes at his forehead, smearing some blood there while wiping away sweat.

‘Daryl.’

He wipes his mouth on his shoulder and looks up at Rick, who is looking at the heart in his hands. He lets it falls onto the floor. And pins it to the wood with his knife.

Then he climbs to his feet again, finds a shirt and cleans his hands.

‘You need stitches,’ Rick says and it takes Daryl a couple of moments to realize that he’s talking to Benjamin.

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘The cuts are too deep. You need stitches. Come on,’ Rick glides off the bed and holds his hand out to help his friend.

But Benjamin is staring at Xander’s body. Mutilated and still bleeding out on the floor. The eyes are impossibly big and green. He’s shaking. His breathing suddenly quickens like he’s having a panic attack. He chokes on his own saliva for a second, swallowing it down with difficulty. ‘Oh my God,’ he breathes. Maybe it only now registers what Daryl has done.

Daryl looks at the body too. And doesn’t feel anything but calmness.

It’s done. And he will never apologize for it.

Benjamin gets up with Rick’s help, stumbles to his feet, swaying a bit on the spot. He looks at Xander again. Then at Daryl.

‘How the fuck are we going to make _that_ look like a hunting accident?’

Daryl snorts and grabs his bow, throwing it onto his back again. He steps over the body, gently takes Benjamin’s face in his hands and tilts it towards the light. Blood runs over his fingers. ‘Rick’s right, ya need stitches. Come on. Maggie can fix ya up.’

‘I can do it myself,’ Benjamin murmurs. ‘Rick, my stuff…’

The sheriff looks around the room and spots the familiar pack. The hoodie is draped over it, along with a shirt and his leather jacket. He grabs the clothing and helps Benjamin get dressed, careful with the wound.

‘Fuck,’ Benjamin breathes through the pain and shoulders his bag with a grunt. He runs a hand through his hair. ‘Hurts like a motherfucking bitch. What’s going on? We heard there was a fire, I was on my way out when it happened but he said you guys…’

‘We lit the church up,’ Daryl grunts and he puts his knife back onto his belt. ‘Carol did the school. Needed a distraction.’

‘Gabriel…’

‘Yeah,’ Rick nods at the blond. ‘We’ve dealt with him. Come on, we need to go.’

‘Right, right,’ Benjamin checks whether he has his knife and then walks over to the dresser, pulling a drawer open and taking out his sister’s gun. ‘I need – I need a couple of bottles of water, maybe some cans of food if you got them. I’ll be fine. Just tell them I lost my mind and went ballistic on him, okay?’

‘What are you talking about?’

Benjamin wipes some blood from his chin with the sleeve of his hoodie. ‘I’m leaving. I told you I would when this was over and… You don’t need me anymore and if they find out you guys were involved, they won’t let you stay. I can’t stay anyway so…. Blame this on me, tell them I set the fires, killed Xander, that I got away. Just, I need some water, okay? Just for a couple of days, then I can get my own, probably, but…’

‘Ben,’ Rick grabs hold of his shoulders, forcing the younger man to look at him. ‘ _We_ are leaving. All of us. The cars are loaded up, the rest has already left. That’s why we needed the distraction. We're getting out of this place.’

Benjamin stares at the cop. ‘But Judith…’

‘We’ll find another place. We’ve survived on the road for this long,’ Rick says. ‘We’ll make it, together.’

‘No,’ Benjamin objects. ‘No! Your kids…’

‘Stop,’ Rick orders now, his voice harsh for a second. ‘I told you; you’re part of my family. We’re leaving. It’s done.’

For a moment it looks like Benjamin wants to protest some more, but then he slumps forward and rests his forehead on Rick’s collarbone. ‘Thank god,’ he breathes, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so _sorry_.’

Rick runs a hand through the blond hair, squeezes the neck affectionately and then kisses the temple. ‘Let’s go.’

‘He’ll turn,’ Benjamin says as he steps back from the embrace and looks down at Xander’s body again.

‘Let him,’ Daryl answers.

‘Okay.’ The younger man looks far too tired to put up a fight. Rick slips past them, out into the hallway and down the stairs. ‘Hey,’ Benjamin says when the hunter moves to follow him. They look at each other. ‘Thank you.’

‘Weren’t nothing,’ Daryl mutters. He glances away but then steps forward again, stroking a hand over Benjamins undamaged cheek. He kisses his lips softly, tasting nothing but blood.

‘I love you,’ Benjamin whispers against his lips.

Daryl nods. ‘Come on, we need to get goin’.’

 

 

The three of them make it out of the house and down the road without any problems. The rest of Genesis is still tending to the fire. Smoke is billowing up, forming a dark cloud above the town. The air smells of ashes.

Out on the square, right in front of the gates, is a car waiting for Rick and Benjamin. The bike is parked right beside it.

‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ Rick runs over to the driver’s seat and pulls the car door open.

‘ _Rick_!’

The cop freezes in his tracks. Daryl shoves Benjamin behind him as he turns to find Davis standing there, a gun in his hand and his chest heaving. There’s sweat running down his neck. He looks scared as he raises the gun to aim at the other man. ‘We found Gabriel.’

‘He was one of mine,’ Rick says as his hand creeps towards his own gun.

‘You _burned_ him.’ There’s disbelief in Davis’ voice. ‘How could you…’

‘You don’t know what he’s done to my people,’ Rick tries to reason. ‘He wasn’t who you thought he was.’

‘Davis,’ Benjamin steps forward with his hands raised.

The leader of Genesis stares at the wound on his friend’s face. The blood that is dripping down his neck where it soaks into his clothes. ‘What happened to you? Did Gabriel-‘

‘No, it was…’ Benjamin hesitates.

Daryl grabs his shoulder and pulls him back, stepping forward and drawing his gun on Davis. ‘Was your little bro, who did that. That little bitch had it comin’, messin’ with my family behind all our backs! We’re leavin’.’

‘Xander?’ Davis echoes as he starts to frown, ‘ _Xander_ did that?’

‘Yeah,’ Rick walks over too, one hand raised at Daryl, the other at Davis, trying to calm them both. ‘But it’s over now. Whatever happened, happened. It’s _done_. We’re leaving, Davis. The rest of us has already gone, but my son is out there, okay? We need to go.’

‘Xander,’ Davis repeats, lowering the gun a little, ‘what have you done to him? You’re expecting me to believe that you just walked away from whatever happened? I know you better than that, Daryl. Is Xander okay?’

Daryl bites on the inside of his cheek but then lowers the gun. ‘He’ll walk. What, you thought I’d leave your blood in pieces on the floor or something?’

‘No, of course not,’ Davis sighs and puts his gun away. ‘I- you understand how important family is, I know that.‘ He shakes his head, ‘stay. We can talk about this, we can work something out. I know we can. Daryl, we can make this community work together.’

‘No, we can’t.’ Daryl looks down at the gun in his hand, the blood that’s still wet under his fingernails. He thinks about the list he has. Davis’ name is on there.

He looks up.

‘It’s _over_ ,’ Rick says sharply. He glances at his brother with narrowed eyes.

Davis takes a step forward, ‘Ben… At least let Ella look at you before you go. Your face…’

‘Is all fucked up,’ Benjamin nods, licking the blood off his lips. ‘It doesn’t matter. I was going to lose my pretty face to either old age or a sharp blade. Guess I got lucky; I hate waiting.’ He spits the blood onto the concrete and then curls an hand around Daryl’s wrist. ‘Let’s go. Maggie can fix me up, just like Rick said.’

Daryl puts his gun back into his holster. ‘A’right.’

‘You’re going to let us go?’

Davis looks at Rick, ‘do I have a choice?’

The former cop puts his hand on his Python. ‘No.’

‘Good luck then,’ Davis raises his hands and steps away. ‘If you change your minds…’

‘We won’t,’ Daryl says as he swings his leg over his bike and runs his hands over the tank before kick starting the engine.

‘If you do, we will be here to welcome you home,’ Davis continues stubbornly.

‘Thank you,’ Rick nods before he pulls the car door open and takes his place behind the wheel.

Benjamin wipes some blood from his chin, smearing it first onto the back of his hand and then his jeans. ‘Give Ella my love, okay? Tell her… tell her thanks.’

‘You can stay,’ Davis says gently. ‘You don’t have to go with them. They’ve got their family. Who’s waiting for you out there?’

The engine of the motorcycle revs impatiently.

Benjamin smiles, walks backwards to the motor. ‘He is.’ He’s smiling as he puts one hand on Daryl’s shoulder to warn him that he’s climbing on behind him.

The hunter glances over his shoulder, ‘sure you don’t wanna ride with Rick? ‘s more comfortable.’

‘I’m plenty comfortable,’ Benjamin assures him. ‘Let’s go. The others are waiting. And I’m slowly bleeding to death here.’

‘Does it still hurt?’

‘He cut me open from eye to collarbone, yeah it still fucking hurts, you jack-ass.’

 Daryl signals Rick and the car pulls out of the gates. ‘Got some painkillers in my pack.’

‘I’ll take them when Maggie starts to stitch my face back together. Thanks.’

Daryl reaches behind him and runs a hand over Benjamin’s thigh, down to his knee. ‘Ready?’

Benjamin scoots a little closer, one arm looping around Daryl’s belly. ‘Yeah.’

The hunter eases the bike on to the road. The engine purrs as he lets it roll out of the gates, then it growls as he throws the gas open. They leap forward and easily catch up to Rick’s car, overtaking it to show the way to the meeting point, where the rest of their family will be waiting for them.

Daryl thinks about how Carl had climbed the wall with Michonne and Judith, how they’d slipped away before anything had even happened. He thinks about Carol, who had known but had chosen the group over Benjamin. He thinks about Maggie and Glenn, who are making it while every other couple they have known has failed. He thinks about Judith, who’s favorite words are now _Dad_ and _Carl._

But mostly he thinks about the open road ahead of them.

About all the homes he’s had over the past years, decades and how many more there will be.

‘I fucking love you,’ he says even though the wind howls around them and the words get lost.

Benjamin lets his forehead rest between Daryl’s shoulder blades and closes his eyes.

‘We’ll make it,’ the hunter mutters to himself and to his friend who can’t hear him. ‘Dog, cubicle, fourth of July barbeques. The whole shebang. You’re not okay and I’m all kinds of fucked up, but I’m tellin’ ya: we’ll fuckin’ make it one day.’

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and that's it for this part!  
>  Thank you to those who have left comments throughout; it means so, so much to me. 
> 
> I know you have been waiting for this. I hope it lived up to expectations.
> 
> The boys will return in the final part; the farm.   
> (Oh my goodness me, I know, another part. This fic is so much bigger than I ever thought it would be. And that's all because your comments have motivated me so much to make it something special and worthy of the love you've been giving it.)


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